Epilogue
by LJ Summers
Summary: Epilogue: a concluding section that rounds out the design of a literary work. HP Epilogue: "The 'What Happens After Voldemort Dies' events. Usually including Marriage and/or Children.'" Because Harry Potter's story won't end until he has his happily ever after. Harry/Hermione/Neville. AU. Slash happens. Triad Fic. As always, please read the Author's Notes!
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** As I've written before, I am getting back into the swing of things again, and this is a story that I have been working on since I posted **Harry Potter's Doom** , a one-shot here on FFn. Yes, there was a lot of backstory that didn't make that bit of fic, but there's also a lot that would have come after. Its epilogue, as it were, and what I decided to do was go ahead and indulge myself by writing it all out as I saw it. The result is this fic-in-progress._

 _It is a deviation for me to be posting this before it is complete on my end, but I am doing so as I've been having trouble getting back into the swing of writing again. Please bear with me. Thank you!_

 _The summary does indicate this will get to be a triad story, M/F/M with some slash happening to one degree or another, so if reading that is not your thing, please feel free to find something else that is. Fanfic is awesome, like that. And, with more than seven hundred thousand **Harry Potter** fics here on FFn, your choices are numerous._

 _ **Legal Matters,** effective for the entire story: I own many copyrights in the world, but this work of derivative fiction is not among them, nor will it ever be. All things **Harry Potter** are the intellectual property of **J.K. Rowling** and/or her assignees. I am just thankful she left her sandbox open to us so we can mess about in here, doing odd things with her beloved characters._

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

 **20 June 1992**

"Albus Dumbledore!"

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger all exchanged surprised, worried looks as they openly listened to Harry's godfather and guardian, Lord Sirius Black, shout at Headmaster Dumbledore just outside of the main entrance to the ancient castle of Hogwarts.

Behind them, there was a chaotic endeavor at organization as hundreds of students laughed, exchanged Floo addresses—or even Muggle addresses amongst the Muggle-born—and upcoming holiday plans. Summer was a time to travel for many, so there was much to say. And as curious as the four children might have been at any other time about the other students, they only had eyes and ears for the men before them.

"Sirius, my boy," the headmaster began.

"Do not 'my boy' me, Albus!" Then, Sirius seemed to become aware that there were ears listening and eyes watching. He flung a hand up and, all at once, the children couldn't hear anything. But they could still _witness_ the exchange.

"He's not happy," Harry murmured, eyes huge behind his stylish, thin-framed eyeglasses. "Look, his hair is coming out of its binding."

Hermione self-consciously smoothed her own wildly curly hair behind one ear. "Why d'you reckon he's upset, Harry?"

"Dunno. I think I did all right on my exams."

The children nodded. Hermione had harangued them _all_ to study and they'd done so. "I think we all did," she whispered. "You haven't had a detention since Spring Hols, so that can't be it."

Ron chuckled. "My mum would have a party for the twins if _they'd_ gone that long without a detention."

Neville cocked his head. "Look, I think he's saying something about Quirrell?"

"Shite. That's not good." Ron cleared his throat. "Hey, mates, I'm gone. Gotta go, er, make sure Percy knows where I am so he doesn't squeal to Mum."

Harry absently wished the ginger boy a good summer just as Sirius ended the silencing charm he and the headmaster had been caught up in.

"So that's that, Albus."

The headmaster stroked his white beard with a contemplative air. "Lord Black, really, I don't think—"

"You don't. Exactly. Harry, c'mon, son. We're leaving."

Harry nodded and turned to shake Neville's hand. "You'll write, yeah? And we should be seeing you, Nev, at our birthdays."

Hermione lunged at Harry to surround him in one of her enthusiastic hugs. Harry had grown used to them by Christmas, as the girl was forever hugging her friends for one reason or another. "You _better_ write, Harry. Neville. I'll write to you both, of course." The boys blushed a little but nodded their agreement.

Within minutes, Harry and his godfather had reached the Apparition Point at the outer gates and disappeared. Neville and Hermione had been told their trunks would be waiting for them at the Hogsmeade Station, so they had only to say their farewells to a few people before making their lonely-ish way to the carriages.

"I'll ask my gran if Harry and I can invite you to our birthday party, Hermione," Neville said, his tone very formal as they settled in for the long ride to London.

The girl smiled a little. "That would be very nice. I don't get invited to many parties."

"Well, we'll make it happen, then."

* * *

 **Summer, 1992**

Dear Nev,

Sirius is taking me out of school! He says that I'm not safe there after what happened with the mess the four of us got into with that Philosopher's Stone this year.

I don't blame him, really, but what am I going to do without my friends?

No birthday party, either! Which is total shite—sorry, Lady Longbottom, if you're reading—but that's what he said. I can't say where we'll be because he won't tell me.

I've got to tell Hermione. Look after her next year, yeah? She's smart but there's so much she doesn't know and I'd hate for one of those gits in Slytherin to get her in trouble for something she didn't learn whilst still in her pram.

Write back, mate. I'll want to know how the Quidditch season goes!

Harry

. . . .

Dear Hermione,

How are you? I hope you are having a good holiday with your folks. I am well and so is my godfather.

I have to tell you, though, that I won't be coming back to Hogwarts. Sirius says it's too dangerous for now. Which I don't get, but that's what he says. I will be getting tutored, my godfather says, so don't think I won't be sitting lessons. Between you and me, my godfather can be really demanding about homework. Especially in Defense and Transfiguration. Has to do with his life before I was born, I think.

Please write to me! I will want to know how your studies and such go next year. If I learn different things, we can compare notes, which I am pretty sure you'd like.

Stay away from the trolls!

Your friend,

Harry

. . . .

Hey, Ron-

My godfather's not letting me come back to Hogwarts. Said that if you had been the one stuck with Quirrell, your mum would probably pull all of the Weasleys out of Hogwarts. (Don't tell your mum he said that, yeah?) Anyway, I'll be getting tutors which might be fun, but I'll miss you and all my friends. So please write!

And remember to keep track of the Quidditch scores. I asked Nev, but you know he'd just as soon hang out in the greenhouses. He's like Hermione and her library.

Take care, mate.

Harry

* * *

 _A/N: So this is where we start. I've got one more chapter I will post later this week and when I do, I will ask you to cast the Aparecium charm if you want future snippets revealed. But . . . not today. ;-)_


	2. Epistolary Interlude

**A/N:** _My thanks and smiles to those who have already checked in with this new fic. Always a pleasure to hear from those who chime in! I do try to respond to every reviewer if they are signed in and accepting PMs._

 _Now, this **is** an epistolary chapter but it is the last one written in this manner. _

* * *

**. . .**

 **~ * EPISTOLARY INTERLUDE * ~**

 **. . .**

 _1 September 1992_

Dear Harry,

It's so odd without you here, this year! Neville and Ron and I compared notes and I thank you for not asking me to keep track of Quidditch scores. You're a fantastic flyer, but I will say I am happy knowing you're not going to get hexed off your broom this year!

You said you're taking lessons in dueling! I'm envious, of course. Any books I can read on what you're learning?

We miss you. Neville was unhappy that you two didn't have a joint birthday party, which I understand has been customary for years. His grandmother invited me to the party he did have, though, so that was very nice.

Be safe out there. You said your owl would find you and I know Nebula is very smart, so please let her know I appreciate her.

All the best to you and your godfather.

Sincerely,

Hermione

 **. . . .**

 _7 November 1992_

Harry,

Weather's been for shite, mate. Maybe that's why we lost to Slytherin today. Sorry! Malfoy made Seeker for their team and his dad bought them all new brooms. Coincidence? I don't think so!

Hermione said she told you about Filch's cat being petrified. There's some rumor flying about that there's a Chamber of Secrets here at the school and the Heir of Slytherin has something to do with it all. We don't know who that is, but Ron thinks it might be Malfoy.

So you aren't taking Herbology in your tutoring? Hermione said you were studying dueling instead. She thinks she should learn as well. Can you believe the girl wants to study fencing? I told her maybe over Christmas hols. My gran can teach her the basics. D'you think Sirius might bring you over for Christmas? Maybe? It's been ages since we've seen you.

Time for dinner and Ron's making a fuss. Better go. Let me know about Christmas!

Neville

 **. . . .**

 _20 December 1992_

Harry,

Oi! Sorry. I know I'm pants at answering you. Just got so much to do, you know? And there've been attacks on the Muggle-born here and they're getting all petrified. Did Hermione tell you? It's been scary, mate. Even Nearly Headless Nick got petrified. Eerie, I'm telling you.

Nev said you weren't going to make it back to Britain for Christmas, so I hope you have fun wherever you are. Errol will find you. I hope he does before Christmas, anyway.

Hermione's got this daft plan for finding out who the Heir of Slytherin is. I told her it's Malfoy but she doesn't believe me. I won't tell you what she's doing to find out what's what, though. Too mental for owl post.

Happy Christmas, Harry.

Ron

 **. . . .**

 _2 January 1993_

Dear Harry,

It's too humiliating, which is why I didn't write before. Why Ron had to go and say something is infuriating. I guess he had a good laugh, though. He and Neville both.

It was my own fault I turned into a cat here and there. So glad you didn't see that.

I didn't even get to have fencing lessons with Neville! And I'd so looked forward to them!

Thank you for the beautiful edition of Grimm's Fairy Tales that you sent me for Christmas! The leatherwork is gorgeous and the quality of the paper is enough to make me want to rub my cheeks against the pages.

Sorry. Too much information! I'm blaming the feline parts, right now.

Thank you for your concern about the Muggle-born attacks. It's been a bit nerve-wracking but as I am mostly confined to the Infirmary for the time being, I should be pretty safe.

I need another quill. Write soon!

Your friend,

Hermione

 **. . . .**

 _23 May 1993_

Neville,

Is Hermione mad at me or something? She hasn't written in over a week. I don't think I said anything stupid, but if she were mad, she'd tell you, right? I mean, you as opposed to Ron. She doesn't write about him very often, to be honest.

Harry

 **. . . .**

 _30 May 1993_

Harry,

Sorry, mate. No, don't think Hermione's mad, but, well. She was petrified. And she figured out what was doing it, too. A basilisk! But she got caught by it and is in the Hospital Wing, now. Madam Pomfrey says she'll be all right now that the potion was administered. My gran came down to see her and, well. Gran likes Hermione and she let the Board know it.

Malfoy Snr got kicked off the Board today, which was announced at dinner. So the headmaster is back.

But the most astonishing news is mine. Ready?

I killed the bleeding basilisk. With the Sword of Gryffindor.

See, Ginny—that's Ron's sister—was possessed by . . . You-Know-Who! Like Quirrell in first year, right? Except without the extra face. So, she was, and Ron and I followed her and it was frightening, I'll tell you that much. Glad I've learnt my fencing lessons well. Basilisks stink, though, for the record.

A right proper horror, it all was, but I guess it's over now. Just in time for summer holidays.

Who knows, maybe my gran will take me out of Hogwarts, too!

Your friend,

Neville

 **. . . .**

 _1 June 1993_

Harry,

No exams today! I mean, I bet that you never have to worry about 'em yourself, but me? I worry. Especially since Hermione was petrified and all and wasn't able to help a fellow Gryffindor out, yeah?

Not that I could've studied much with what happened to Ginny. My sister, you know? Anyway, it's in the Prophet and I'm sure you've read about how me and Nev went and rescued Gin. Terrifying, that was, but at least I wasn't having to kill a basilisk.

I'm going to try out for the House Quidditch team next term, so I plan on getting a lot of flying in this summer. What about you? Be a shame if you can't play now.

Take care of yourself, mate.

-Ron

* * *

 _25 August 1993_

Dear Hermione,

I hate this. So much. But my godfather says we should stop writing to each other. I think, though, you can probably get letters to me with Neville, if we're all careful.

Because you're so brilliant, you'll have noted that this came to your Muggle post box. Because the owl you used—and I'm so sorry, Hermione. Sirius enclosed some Muggle money for you because your owl was killed yesterday.

And I'm so, so sorry. Sirius thinks it's because of me! And I know you adored Boudicca and only just got her this summer so we could write and—

I know you don't like swearing, so I'm trying to be a gentleman, here, but Merlin. I'm so sorry.

I know the money won't make up for the loss of Boudicca, but maybe you could get a new familiar? How about a cat?

Better not get an owl, though. We'll have to write Muggle if we write at all. If you even want to write to me anymore. Muggle or Neville. I haven't heard from him in a bit, though. Really, you're my best source of information since Ron went to Egypt. I only saw that in the Prophet.

I really want to still be friends, Hermione. You and Nev are almost the only people at Hogwarts I keep in contact with, and even with Neville, it's on the rare side. I'm lucky that one of my best friends is a girl. Because you write!

Please write back to the address at the bottom of the page. I hope you will.

Your friend,

Harry

P.S. I can't apologize enough.

 **. . . .**

 _1 September 1993_

Dear Harry,

After a very wet ride, we got to Hogwarts this evening and I was finally able to answer the letter that arrived two days ago. Yesterday, I took your advice and bought a cat. Please thank your godfather for me. I did not tell my parents why I really received the funds; I told them it was a birthday present from your family. Please don't tell them about the owl. Honestly, I don't think they noticed she was gone as I'd had her such a short time. If it comes up, I'll tell her she might have just decided to settle down and have some chicks.

I was relieved that Neville didn't get pulled from Hogwarts this year. I didn't tell my parents about the basilisk last year because I was afraid they'd remove me from Hogwarts as well. And I can't get special tutors to help me out, alas.

Sorry. I don't mean to be snippy. I'm just having a hard day today, that's all.

My new cat is part kneazle and his name is Crookshanks. He's orange and has lots of character. I do believe he's quite smart.

Please be safe, Harry. I don't know why anyone would want to interfere in our correspondence but I worry for your safety. I read the Prophet over the summer and I know that the "English lord's son" involved in that incident in Budapest was you.

Muggle post only, I promise.

Your friend,

Hermione

P.S. Of course I still want to write to you! When a girl is saved from a troll, it makes an impact for life!

 **. . . .**

 _12 February 1994_

Harry,

Well, I did it. I went to Hogsmeade with Hermione. You've probably got a letter from her already as our first stop was to the Muggle post box there. She showed me the stamps and what-not she put on the envelope. Proper complicated, it looked. But she has a way of explaining things, you know?

We had a good time, we did, and I bought her Sugar Quills at Honeydukes. She said she sent you candy for Christmas; was it from there? She's trying so hard to fit in, but there's a lot I forget she doesn't know, being a Muggle-born. She told Gran that there ought to be a class.

Well, she's right!

Next time, if she'll come with me, I'll see if she'll let me hold her hand.

Tell Sirius that his idea for holding a knife in one hand and a sword in the other is grand and my gran will be finding me a fencing master to teach me how to fight that way. "Wizards," she reminded me in that way she has, "never seem to remember that they can fight without wands. You'll have the advantage if you can fight without magic."

So far, she's been pretty right, so I guess she is here, as well.

So . . . any pretty witches for you to take on dates?

Neville

 **. . . .**

 _10 June 1994_

Dear Hermione,

I got my godfather to invite your family to visit us during your trip to France this summer. Expect a regular invitation, with information and a Muggle phone number, soon!

Your friend,

Harry

P.S. Did you let Neville hold your hand yet?

* * *

 _10 August 1994_

Dear Harry,

It was so amazing to get to spend your birthday with you this year! Thank you and your godfather for inviting us. Crookshanks enjoyed the pâté, of course.

Mum and Dad were really surprised at how, well, "normal" Sirius and Mr. Lupin were. They were expecting, I think, someone more like the headmaster and less like themselves. Please thank your godfather and his partner for their hospitality. I don't think I've enjoyed a holiday in France more. Swimming at night with the bluebell lights? It was just like in a film!

I am sorry for breaking your glasses during our duel! Seemed a bad trick to play on the birthday boy and all, but you said to do my best so I did. I think my mum was scandalized.

Oh! One more thing, if you would be so kind? Please thank Mr. Lupin for the Ancient Runes information. I look forward to reading every word of the book he gave me. Once I get it translated!

Thank you again, so much. Do you think you'd ever come back to Hogwarts?

Your friend,

Hermione

* * *

 _A/N: Ready to see what happens when Harry does come back to Hogwarts? I will offer to share a bit with you IF you cast the revealing charm: **Aparecium**! (This charm only works if you are signed in and accepting PMs.)_

 _ **Katmom** advised me not to make myself crazy as I wrote this. Heh. We'll see how it goes, but I can say that I have the next few chapters ready, so . . . See you next week if not sooner. ;-)_


	3. A New Beginning

**A/N:** _Bottles of butterbeer to everyone who has joined us in this AU! This chapter covers a lot, so it's rather longer than my usual. Happy Monday!_

 _Remember, this is an **Alternate Universe** , which means (you know ME) I've changed things around a bit here and there. Generally, I do so on purpose. So, it's been a few years . . ._

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **A NEW BEGINNING**

 ** _28 August 2002_**

Harry Potter lingered in the corridor outside the staff lounge at Hogwarts, pacing. Go in _now_ or wait until he was sure to be the last one to the Meet-and-Greet? There were low voices within, soft laughter, the homey sounds of spoons in tea cups, and chairs dragging along a hard floor. He didn't recognize any of the voices, though. He hadn't been a student here for more than ten years. He knew Neville was on staff, as Professor of Herbology for the younger students, and his old friend had said he'd save him a chair at a table. He knew Hermione was on staff as well, teaching Muggle Studies as well as Charms to first and second year students.

Ron Weasley was the only one of their old group of first years from a decade prior that _wasn't_ now ensconced on staff at Hogwarts. But the name Ron Weasley was becoming quite well known as a star Keeper for the Pride of Portree which was based in Scotland. Harry didn't hear from him often, but there was usually a card at Christmas and, last year, tickets to the home matches for the team.

Not that Harry had been able to go. He'd had to keep a low profile in Britain, what with one thing and another. Still, he'd sent thanks and so on and when the Pride was overseas, Harry tried to make the matches when he could.

Heart hammering with nerves, Harry blew out a breath and tapped a piece of parchment that he had in his plain black robes. It was the letter that Hermione had sent him after the last time he'd seen her: the birthday party in France when he turned fourteen. That night had been an eye opener for certain. His friend with the wild, bushy hair and overlarge front teeth—which was how he'd seen her in his memory as they'd never thought of sharing photographs—had somehow become a young woman in a surprisingly complimentary swimming costume all at once. And when her hair had been wet? It had slid over her shoulders and down her back like shiny fabric caressing every curve. And her smile? She'd grown into it, and had confessed that her parents had done "some work" on her teeth, being as they were Muggle dentists, and she'd also asked Madam Pomfrey to help as well.

Her farewell hug _after_ the party had been long enough to make him _sweat_ , and definitely long enough to earn him a lot of teasing from Sirius and Remus.

"It's not like that," he'd protested, embarrassed enough that the memory could still bring the heat to his cheeks, so many years later. "She's dating Nev, you know."

He'd never told Neville that he'd gone swimming with Hermione.

Over the years since, Neville's infrequent letters did include a peppering of Hermione references but not enough to make Harry think they were a steady thing, really. They sounded like good friends. Close friends.

"Harry? Oi, it's you!" A tall fellow with a crooked smile and straight teeth filled the doorway between the corridor and the lounge. Harry didn't recognize the face as much as he did the sight of the cable-knit waistcoat the man wore. "It's me, Neville! Neville Longbottom." He laughed. "What, you don't recognize me?"

Nonplussed, Harry could only grin. "Well, no, mate. I apparently didn't let any of my friends age in my mind once I'd left you. You should be about, oh, _that_ high with cheeks like a chipmunk."

"Well, we haven't had that problem with you, that's for certain. I think your face shows up pretty regularly here and there." Harry shrugged and looked down at his boots and Neville came out of the lounge entirely. "And if you kept Hermione as what, twelve? I'd be surprised."

"Fourteen," Harry corrected automatically. "Though to be honest, she surprised me then as well."

Neville ears turned a dull pink as he rocked back on his heels. "Right. Yeah. She rather took a turn on all of us about then, didn't she?" He laughed lightly and moved to leave the way open to enter the staff room. "Well, come on then. Everyone wants to see you! Especially Hermione. For the record," he added in a playful voice, "she doesn't look fourteen anymore."

Harry knew that. Too much had happened to her during her fourth year and after her fifth year for her to look as she had the last time he'd seen her. Before her innocence was burnt away. "I'm sure," was all he said to Neville, though.

"Hey, everyone. Harry's here!"

"Harry!"

"Potter!"

"No shit!"

"Merlin bless us all."

"Will you look at the boy?"

"Come on, have a sit," Neville suggested in an undertone.

Bewildered by the boisterous, enthusiastic welcomes, Harry settled onto the stiff wooden chair and blew out a breath before lifting his head with a smile.

And there she was. "Hermione."

"Harry! So good to see you. When we heard you were going to be our new Defense professor, I was terribly pleased. I even asked the house-elves to let me bake you some of those biscuits we had at your party, all those years ago."

He laughed because he couldn't help himself. She was so very much how he remembered her, no matter that she didn't look a bit like a fourteen-year-old. Her hair wasn't bushy at all, but bounced in shining curls below her shoulders. Brown brows arched elegantly over her warm brown eyes. She wore a set of robes in dark, faded red that had been turned up a bit at the cuffs. He remembered the more constrained circumstances of her life these days and frowned a bit before he determinedly pushed his unhappy thoughts aside.

With a firm smile, he shifted to focus entirely on her for a few minutes, figuring everyone else would give them a moment as they were indeed old friends.

"Don't get all mad," he said, reaching for one of her hands. "It's just so good to hear you sound so much like I remember, even after everything."

Her cheeks darkened with a blush. "It _has_ been a while."

He used his free hand to get the letter he'd kept. "You asked me a long time ago if I'd ever come back to Hogwarts, remember?"

It was her turn to chuckle as she opened the much-read missive. "Oh, my. You've kept this? Well, it's good that you're here, Harry."

A large hand landed on his shoulder as Neville settled in on his other side. "It really is, mate. It really is."

Harry pressed Neville's hand a moment and turned to face the rest of the room. "Hello."

Minerva McGonagall, who was now the headmistress after Dumbledore's demise (the cause of which remained a mystery to all but a few) rose to her feet and cleared her throat. He had exchanged letters with her and interviewed with her, of course, but the interview had taken place in Sirius's Fidelius-charmed house; one of their safe houses in the United Kingdom, actually. Here, in the pleasantly full lounge at Hogwarts, she cut quite a different figure.

She'd left off the pointed hat, and her dark hair glinted with white streaks. Behind round eyeglasses, her eyes were sharp and green—a darker green than his own—and they seemed to see everything. Her robes were nothing like he remembered Dumbledore's as being, and Harry knew a small trickle of relief that the job of Head of School didn't come with an outrageous wardrobe. No, Headmistress McGonagall wore severe black robes with four rows of piping that he imagined represented all four Houses: green for Slytherin, bronze for Ravenclaw, red for Gryffindor, and gold for Hufflepuff. The school crest rode high on the left breast of her robes and she held herself with casual, but absolute, authority.

"Welcome back, then. This promises to be an interesting year," she said, her Scottish burr subtle but there. "And to get it out of the way, let's all welcome our new Defense Professor, Harry Potter." There was an outbreak of applause as well as some laughter.

Harry grimaced in an overblown way that he knew would earn him smiles and approval for a show of modesty more than anything else. "Hello," he said in a break in the noise. "Good to be here; I've missed Hogwarts, to be honest. It's good to be back, even if it took me a while."

"A decade," Hermione asserted with a nudge of her shoulder. There was more light laughter.

"A decade. Hermione and Neville have kept me informed," Harry said, rubbing his shoulder as if he were wounded. "It's good to be here. A warning," he went on to say, angling his brows and sweeping the room with what he hoped was a humorous gleam in his eye. "Sirius Black _and_ Remus Lupin will be in Hogsmeade so they might be popping in from time to time."

There were playful groans as well as curious looks from everyone. Everyone save the Potions Master, Severus Snape.

"We appreciate the warning, I'm sure," Severus intoned with a sneer. He met Harry's eye with one arched brow. "I trust that they shan't be interfering with the curriculum."

"Indeed they shall not!" McGonagall declared. "Now, on to the business of the year. We're expecting only thirty new students to be Sorted." Her glance darted to Hermione, who nodded. "Six of whom are Muggle-born, three more who have been raised in largely in a Muggle manner. Miss Granger will be giving them lessons in our culture as only an outsider can do, as she has the past two years. It has been successful so far in making sure the Muggle-born can be safe here."

Harry's heart seemed to freeze for a moment. He'd known things were made difficult for the Muggle-born, but what had happened that he hadn't heard about? He shot a look to Neville who held up a finger and mouthed, _Later_.

"There's also been a change in the Head of my House," McGonagall said, her accent stronger than it had been. "I know I'd announced that Rubeus Hagrid would be the Gryffindor Head, but he's had to decline the position due to family concerns. So for the time being, we'll be seeing a split in the duties between our Ancient Runes Mistress, Bathsheda Babbling, and Professor Longbottom."

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione, to see her eyes shining with pleasure at Neville's advancement. A twinge of discomfort pulled in Harry's chest, but he smoothed it away. It was right and proper to be happy for a friend.

"Right then. Here are this year's timetables. And Professor Potter?"

"Harry, ma'am."

"Then I'm Minerva," the headmistress insisted. "Harry. Your quarters will be near Neville's, so he'll escort you there. I trust the house-elves have made themselves known to you?"

"Yes, ma'am. _Minerva_. Thank you."

Introductions were made, and paper aeroplanes made entirely obvious trips about the room as different professors caught up with colleagues. Or, perhaps, just made plans for meeting up in Hogsmeade later.

At the end of the meeting, Harry allowed himself to be, well, _passed around_ a bit to hear reminiscences of one sort or another before he found himself in front of a dawdling Severus Snape. The older wizard made a disparaging sound as Harry took a quick look about the emptying lounge. "Subtlety, Potter. Never was your best trait, nor Black's."

"Severus." They didn't shake hands; they didn't need to nor wish to. Especially not before others. "How has your summer been?"

" . . . Productive." Severus lowered his voice as he slid a bright silver quill into a worn leather attaché case. "We should meet. Perhaps this evening?"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted the furtive scheduling with a happy note to her voice. "Send me word when you're settled in so I can bring those biscuits!"

"Of course, Hermione," Harry said with a smile. He nodded, waited until she'd gathered her things, and then turned back to Severus. "Tonight would do well. Students won't be arriving for a few days, yet."

"Precisely. And there are plans to set in motion." The Potions Master sighed heavily, as if the weight of the entire castle were lodged on his chest. "And undoubtedly there will be _others_ you will wish to involve. In one way or another," he added with a slow, suggestive curl to his voice.

Harry felt his ears heat with shy embarrassment. Really, Severus was either too observant or entirely too nosy. And, considering his avocation as a spy? It was likely both. "Undoubtedly, but in the end it will come down to me. And _him_."

"Did you have a time frame?"

"To be honest, I was wanting this done before Yule if we can maneuver effectively." Blowing out a breath, he shoved both hands roughly through his hair before rocking back on his heels. "I'm so bloody tired, Severus."

"This, I entirely comprehend and sympathize with. I am as well. Fine. We'll . . . we'll meet and see what we can accomplish. Perhaps we can put it down to hearing stories about your mother." The smile he offered was thin.

Harry, though, thought that was a grand idea. "I'd like that."

* * *

"So this is my corner of the castle, then," Neville said, throwing open the door to his quarters and ushering Harry in. "Most of us have the same basic space, unless they're married."

"Any married staff?" Harry inquired, honestly curious. "I don't recall if any of us even _knew_ that when we were young."

Neville grinned and waved his wand, silently bringing flame to the candles about the room. "Actually, yes. Septima is married, though there are no children. And Rolanda has her wife living here with us. Others on staff have family in Hogsmeade. Like you, eh? Not much room for a family in here, for certain." There was a small sofa and one leather club chair that seemed to be arranged to face the fireplace. A polished wooden table nestled in the middle of that configuration on a woven rug of Gryffindor red and gold. The Longbottom coat of arms was mounted over the fireplace, along with an Order of Merlin.

"Nice work there, Neville," Harry commented, weaving through the furniture to examine the golden medal held by a purple ribbon in a display box. "For your Endeavor beyond the Ordinary", June of 1993?" Try as he might, he couldn't remember what had happened; it had been so many years ago. Hell, he'd just got used to seeing Neville as an adult, right?

The other man waved a hand in a self-deprecating manner. "I think I told you about it. I killed a basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. It was threatening the students and had even petrified some."

Hermione had been petrified that year. Right. "Ah, yes. Thank you. Sorry," he added with a wince. "I should have remembered."

"You've been busy enough out there fighting death eaters and who knows what, Harry. Don't worry about it."

"No Orders of Merlin to show for that, either," Harry said with a shake of his head. "Nice place, here, Neville. "Even without the medal."

Neville grinned at him. "Thanks. It's comfortable here, and I can keep an eye on Hermione."

"Right." _Un_ comfortable, Harry wasn't sure what to do with himself, so he shifted away from the Order of Merlin medallion and leaned against an empty length of mantlepiece. "So, are you two an item?" With effort, he met Neville's eyes with his own, endeavoring to manufacture a small, encouraging smile. After all, _Neville_ hadn't run out on their friend. _Neville_ had stayed at Hogwarts, his grandmother supporting him to do so. _Neville_ had taken Hermione out on their first Hogsmeade date together— _that_ bit of post, Harry remembered clearly—and had been there for her during the Triwizard Tournament . . . so many things, really. And they were close, as far as Harry had been able to ascertain.

The tall, affable professor dropped his gaze for a moment. "Up for a dram?" Neville indicated the sofa and chair with a swing of his head before turning to a narrow sideboard and a crystal decanter of something.

"Erm, thanks, sure." Harry lowered himself cautiously into the chair and tried to look rather more comfortable than he was. "Is there something I need to know?" he ventured.

Neville pressed his lips together and hummed a little. "I dunno what Hermione's told you, over the years," he said, pouring a bit of what Harry thought was firewhisky into shot glasses. "I mean, some of it I can guess, right? We haven't made a habit of sharing our correspondence with you, though. Are we an item? No, not exactly." He settled into a corner of the sofa after handing Harry his dram of firewhisky. It smelt intriguing as Harry held it up to his nose. "We've dated, yes. There was the Yule Ball our fourth year, which had been tricky, as she'd had to attend, even though she'd needed some, er, accommodations for her robes."

Harry frowned and tossed back most of his firewhisky, coughing a bit as it offered its own burn on the way down. "Yeah. I don't even have words for what happened to her, you know. I tried, Neville. I did, but, what's a man say, yeah?"

With a smile Neville shook his head. "You said the right things at the time. We were fourteen, you and I, yeah?" He laughed shortly. "So we've dated, yes, but we never made it official or anything. With purebloods, here in Britain, dating isn't the usual way, you know?" Harry nodded; Sirius had told him as much, once upon a time. "But, after, er, the Dark Wanker took over the Ministry and set up all those Muggle-born restrictions, my gran and I decided to bring Hermione into my House as a protected member." Neville seemed to blush, there in the light of the candles, and Harry wondered what that meant, in that situation.

"A protected member?"

"Yeah. She was under Gran's guardianship after, er, what happened to her parents."

A moment of silence followed out of respect for Hermione's loss, Harry understood. The guilt for all she had gone through over the years weighed heavily on him and he didn't know how he even dared to ask what was going on between Neville and Hermione but, oddly, he felt more comfortable having Neville speak of it than he would have if he'd gone to Hermione first about . . . all of it.

"So, is that _more_ than being an item?" he asked, attempting to inject humor in his tone.

Neville shrugged and crossed his legs. "Honestly, Harry? It's enough to make a man mad." He laughed softly and avoided Harry's gaze. "I mean, first off, we can't be, well, intimate." This time, the blush was unmistakable. "Because if we were, it'd be tantamount to being betrothed and, well . . ." After puffing out a breath, he finally met Harry's eyes. "She's always been quite loyal to you, you know."

His heart gave a sudden thump. "Me?" Relieved that his voice didn't squeak or anything in sheer shock, Harry finished off the last bit of his firewhisky, keeping the small glass in his hand. "We've never been, you know, anything other than friends, Neville. You know, like you and me." When the other man angled a dubious look at him, Harry went on. "It's good to know she considers me a friend . . ."

"Well, I didn't push for more than just dates for years with her. Whenever she gets a letter from you, her eyes light up and she goes all . . ." Neville made this odd motion with his free hand. "Smiley. Anyway. I'm not going to tie her to House Longbottom . . . even if I could." He paused and took a long breath. "And I could, Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Neville gave him a significant sort of look that Harry couldn't put into words precisely, but that said that though they weren't able to be "intimate" they had . . . Neville cleared his throat. "Came close a time or two."

Neville and Hermione _did_ have a history, then, even if they weren't a _couple_ as such. With a nod, Harry let that remain stated as it had been. This was going to be a hard year and he needed Neville as an ally.

"Well, I respect that," he said slowly, not sure how to respond, precisely. "You and Hermione are both important to me, as you've been the two people from my childhood that I've really remained friends with, you know? And you warned me that Hermione didn't look fourteen anymore." He smiled, then, feeling self-conscious but also thinking that wasn't a bad thing. "She doesn't!"

They shared a laugh, then. "Well, she's had to grow into her roles, these days. Being a protected member of my House keeps her safe enough if she's got an escort in Hogsmeade, but she normally doesn't go; she's not even on the duty rota."

Harry grimaced. "That bad?"

"Yeah. Random wankers trying to curry favor with Voldemort have tried to hex her or even use an Unforgivable. So mostly she goes to Longbottom Manor when she has to get away, and will do her shopping with my gran or me."

"Shite. That's not . . . she doesn't really write about that, you know? I had heard that there were restrictions placed on the Muggle-born, but I didn't know it was that bad."

"Well, it's not. Not for everyone. But Hermione is a friend of yours, yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't know why she's continued, to be honest. I mean, why did she even stay in the magical world after being entered into the Tournament?"

Neville grinned. "Well, you'll have to talk to her about that!"

* * *

"Is there anything else Mister Harry Potter be wanting?"

"Just your name," Harry told the perky house-elf with the enormous, pale green eyes.

Ears stiffened as the small body vibrated. "I am being Fidget!" The little fellow patted his pillowcase tunic and darted quick glances about Harry's quarters. "And I am honored to serve the Great Harry Potter. Fidget saw Harry Potter when Harry Potter was a squeak and when the Bad Two-Faced Professor was here. Harry Potter showed great power, even as a squeak! All the house-elves be knowing! I am honored," he concluded, bowing so that his nose touched the stone floor, "to be serving the Great Harry Potter."

Harry rocked back on the heels of his boots. "Er, thank you, Fidget. Please, just call me Harry. Or, er, Professor Potter," he added, in case the elves had to be formal with those they served. "And the rooms look perfect. I saw my sheets were all on my bed and my clothes in the wardrobe. You're very efficient."

"Professor Potter be wanting a fire? Tea? Ale? House-elves be bringing ale to professors if they wants it."

"Nah, that's fine, Fidget. I can start a fire—" The house-elf flicked one hand and the logs in the hearth ignited. "—Or I can let you do it much more efficiently. Thank you," he added with a small smile.

"You be welcome, Professor Potter! Oh," he said next, cocking his head as his ears twitched a bit. "You's be having company. I gets another cup for tea for you and Professor Granger." Fidget popped away without another word as there was a knock on the door.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Harry pushed out a breath and opened the door, schooling his expression so that he didn't appear as on edge about this as he felt. "Hermione!"

Eyes alight, she grinned at him in a way that made him think of games and fun and innocence. Considering all she'd had to endure since last he'd seen her, he winced internally as she spoke. "Harry! I brought biscuits. Do you know, it was a great honor for me to be allowed to bake them myself. The house-elves can be quite particular." She held up a ceramic plate of cobalt blue and he could smell the warm chocolate chips cookies as well as see them. But he was mostly trying hard not to stare at her, the conversation with Neville fresh in his mind, as well as his appointment with Severus Snape.

"They smell great," he remarked into a weirdly awkward silence. She poked her head about to look into his parlor and he shook himself a little. "Sorry. Manners. Would you like to step in?"

"Yes!"

He laughed; her enthusiasm was so refreshing. So . . . _her_. "You know, you sound so much like your letters. I'm glad." He took the plate of biscuits from her and set it on the small round table near his tea service. "Tea?"

"Oh, no. It's your first night and I know how much work there is to be done when you're just starting." She blushed and smoothed her hands over her Muggle denims. "On that note, if there is anything I can do to help, you've only to ask, you know. Questions or what-have-you that you come up with. You can Floo, but sometimes it's like an old-fashioned Muggle party line for the telephone, you know?" She chuckled and looked unabashedly about his quarters; he wondered what she thought of them and realized he'd brought none of himself into it, yet, so it didn't really reflect him.

But. "Questions, eh? I've got a few, actually." Uneasy, he still had to ask because he had to know and he didn't want any lingering weirdness in his mind regarding Hermione Granger. "How . . . how _are_ you, Hermione?" He half-extended a hand to her, wanting to hold hers—as a friend, a concerned friend—but dropped it almost immediately and thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

She regarded him for a moment as the light faded from her gaze to be replaced with a calm assurance. "Harry Potter. I will not have you feeling guilty over something that happened so many years ago that was beyond your control." It was her turn to extend her hand and, unlike he'd been, she was brave enough to leave it out until he took it in his own. "Is this about the Tournament?"

He flushed and dropped his gaze to their hands. His fingers slid between hers and they held each other, palm to palm, at an odd angle. "You can't know how angry I was with Sirius, Hermione. I was furious. I tried to Apparate—"

"No!"

"Oh, I did. I tried running away. Everything I could think of but he set a squad of house-elves on me to keep me home and away from . . . from here." He felt his eyes prickle with regret. "I know you said not to worry about it and such, but you have to know I . . ."

She cleared her throat and pressed his hand between both her own for a long, quiet moment. "I know that Charlie Weasley told me you'd paid for my treatment and such, Harry. Which I never did thank you for, because he'd said it was a secret and we were being so careful with not letting anyone catch us writing."

"But it was my fault!"

"No, it wasn't! Harry . . ." She sighed and moved a bit to hitch her hip to rest on his table. "I never blamed you, for pity's sake. _You_ didn't enter my name in that stupid thing. Yes, they were using me to try to get to you but they failed. Miserably." She smirked. "And I was glad they did. Not so glad about having myself turned into Grilled Granger, but, you know. Between the dragon tamers and St. Mungos, I got through it."

"Charlie said that dragon fire always left scars, though," Harry whispered. He couldn't seem to find voice for more, just then.

"Yeah. I've got 'em. But it's all right. Badge of honor and all that, yeah?" She made a motion as if to tug up her Oxford button-down, but he held up a hand and shook his head. She nodded her silent acquiescence. "It's not as bad as you might be worried about, Harry. Information is a good thing. Nev says it's smoothing out a bit as I've grown up." Harry blushed but Hermione wasn't looking at his face, so he wasn't as embarrassed as he might have been. "He's been the main one to keep the lotion on my back and so on," she added in a more subdued manner. "Couldn't have made it without him. Not all these years."

"He, er, told me," Harry said after clearing his throat, "that you're a member of House Longbottom?" He decided he needed tea and moved to the small kitchenette along the innermost wall.

"Oh! Yes. He and his gran are wonderful. But really, Harry—"

"No, wait. I, er, I'm just trying to get a sense of things, right? Like the social dynamics?"

It was apparently Hermione's turn to clear her throat. "You want to know if I'm dating Neville?"

"Well, you did date him back when you were still students, right?" he inquired over the sound of water pouring into the kettle. He could have used the _Aguamenti_ spell but chose to rely on Hogwarts' plumbing instead.

There was a soft laugh when he'd finished and set the kettle on to boil. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

Looking back at her over his shoulder, he smiled. "I try not to. Easier to stay alive that way. Sure you don't want tea?" He could Floo Severus and reschedule, right?

"Neville and I, yes. We _were_ dating exclusively, yes. And we still go out. But it's awkward and tense at times."

Humming under his breath, he nodded and went for "casual and interested". "The whole protected member of his house thing?"

She made a startled sound. "Exactly." She joined him at the small slate counter that served as almost his entire food preparation area. "So you've talked to him already?"

He swallowed and turned to lean against the cooling cabinet. "Yeah, he invited me up right after the staff meeting. I think you'd left to go get the biscuits already." Smiling, he was unable to prevent himself from reaching for a curl of her hair. It was heavy and seemed to wrap around his finger of its own accord. "He told me a bit about some of your need to keep safe, Hermione."

She dropped her gaze and seemed to find great interest in her fingernails, which were neat and unpolished, though lingering ink stains on a knuckle or two caught his notice. "Well. I'm proud to be a Muggle-born, Harry. You know that." He nodded but she didn't see as she wasn't looking. "And I'm proud to be your friend. I have always been proud to be your friend." At that, she did meet his eyes. "So no more apologies about anything, all right?" She inhaled and exhaled harshly. "Not even for what happened after . . . sixth year. It's been five years, you know, and I'm doing all right, really."

"Hermione, I am—"

"What did I _just_ say?"

Wincing, he sighed. "I know. But. Yeah. I'm, I'm proud to be your friend, too, you know. You're so brave." He'd like to be more, he thought, but . . . would that be an option at any time? Maybe after . . . if there _was_ an _after_. "So very brave," he repeated on a whisper.

The kettle whistled then—thank Merlin for magic hot plates—and Harry turned to the business of measuring tea into the traditional Brown Betty that was there when he arrived. He poured the water in and watched it swirl a bit before settling the teapot lid with that small sound that said "home" to so many Englishmen.

"I try to be brave," Hermione said after a while. "Gryffindor's honor and all." They shared a soft chuckle as a house-elf popped into the sitting area near the hearth.

"Professor Harry Potter! I's being Trundle, house-elf for Professor Snape. He's sending you a note, sir!"

Surprised, Harry checked his wristwatch—an entirely mechanical one—before taking the bit of parchment from the elf. "Thank you, Trundle."

"I'm to wait for a response, Professor Harry Potter, sir."

 _Potter,_

 _A reminder of our most recent conversation. I am expecting you soonest. I've a potion brewing and my time is limited._

 _S.S._

"Everything all right, Harry?"

"Yeah, I have scheduled a, erm, _chat_ with Severus this evening. Trundle? Please tell Professor Snape I'll be there in five minutes." With a nod, the house-elf popped away and Harry offered a rueful smile to his guest. "Sorry, Hermione."

She cast a bit of a wistful glance toward the Brown Betty, but smiled sweetly. "That's all right. You've got many people to reconnect with aside from Nev and me."

"There's no one like you or Nev, Hermione. You're my best friends." She blushed, and he silently congratulated himself for saying something right. "But Severus and I have some business to discuss—stuff that's sort of developed over the years whilst Sirius and I were out, er . . ."

"Fighting Death Eaters and doing who knows what in secret places." With a wry light in her cinnamon brown eyes, Hermione began moving toward his door. "To Floo any professor here, you can just call out their last name in any staff-quarters' fireplace, all right? And mine is _Granger_. You know, in case you forgot." She grinned at him before stepping out of his little flat.

* * *

So she was dating Neville. But not exclusively. And she was a protected member of his house. So there was a relationship, but not a permanent one. Neville clearly wanted more, and Hermione had mentioned "tension" which could mean a lot of things, really.

He was so confused! He hadn't had any serious sort of relationship before, due to the transient nature of his life. He'd evaded persistent sorts—male and female—by mentioning in passing his long-time friends he'd left behind in England, without naming names.

Still, far too many knew of Hermione Granger. She'd been Hogwarts' Triwizard Champion and had suffered mightily. All because of Harry himself.

Thankfully, that hadn't hampered her friendship. He wondered if it would get in the way of . . . more? Honestly, he had kind of hoped, since deciding to come to Hogwarts, that more could happen . . . He wasn't crude or lewd, he hoped. Well, sure, the rest of the summer after that swimming pool birthday party? Yes, he'd had enough material for his young and mostly-innocent "spank bank" after that party, but he'd carefully kept later fantasies carefully confined to nameless and faceless people.

He honestly hadn't had a face to put to her name, but that hadn't kept him from thinking about her in that way.

And she was dating Neville. But not exclusively.

Harry blew out a breath and pushed up the sleeves on his robes. He had one more meeting this evening that was at least as important as the others, if not moreso in one significant way.

On his third trip down one corridor in the dungeons, one of the portraits cleared its throat. "Professor Potter?"

Taken aback, he froze, wand out, and turned slowly until he saw the portrait of a woman with sleek white hair and robes that looked to be Victorian. Which could mean anything. "Was that you?"

"Yes, sir. I'm Alsace Goshawk. You appear to be lost, Professor, and this is not a place in which one should be lost. What are you seeking?"

Harry felt heat in his cheeks but he ignored it and slid his wand into its holster. "Ma'am. Thank you," he said, resisting the urge to bow to the portrait. "I'm seeking the Head of Slytherin, Severus Snape. We have a meeting this evening, but I am not familiar with the castle, not having been here since the end of my first year."

The woman in the portrait pursed her lips in a mildly irritated manner. "Of course. We know. Professor Snape is in his quarters, which you'll find at the end of this corridor. Extend your wand so the wards will alert him. He requires this of everyone."

"Thank you, Lady Goshawk."

After nodding to the portrait, Harry took off quickly to the end of the corridor, wand presented before him. A subtle light flared around it, extending to the wall and then, Harry could see, a dark door one long stride away. It had been Disillusioned, perhaps, but swung open after a moment.

"Potter." There was no outright invitation, but Harry went into Snape's quarters anyway. As soon as he was safely away from the door, it shut silently behind him. "You're late."

"I got, er, a bit turned around. Lady Goshawk set me right."

Snape made a derisive sound under his breath and set aside the cup of tea he'd been drinking. With a snap of his wand, the fire lit and Snape impatiently got Harry to take an overstuffed chair upholstered in black and gold. "Right, then. I am assuming," Severus drawled, looking down his nose at Harry though they were both seated on either side of the hearth, "that the final horcrux succumbed to the basilisk venom I procured for you and Black?"

"It did, yes. And Dumbledore confirmed what you suspected, Severus." He was mildly surprised—and gratified—when the older wizard winced a bit. Enough to see by the flickering light of the fire. "There is one in my head. We think, as we discussed before, that it was accidental in creation." Harry grimaced, recalling how Sirius had broken down in devastation when the suspicion had been confirmed earlier that year. "We tried using the basilisk venom on it—"

Snape scoffed. "You didn't!" He leaned forward, peering at Harry's forehead.

Obligingly moving his fringe out of the way, Harry leaned in as well. "No additional issues, thankfully, as we were prepared for it all to go pear-shaped. It's still there. I might have been back last year save for the efforts we had in trying to get rid of this. However, we did discover something else whilst all that was going on." He settled back in his chair and crossed his legs to study the Potions Master. Severus shifted uncomfortably, but met his gaze squarely enough. "Nagini. He has a snake by that name, yes?"

Visibly shaken, Severus nodded before setting his jaw for a moment. At length, he said, "He does. His familiar. Why?"

"We have a connection, he and I."

"I remember," Severus drawled steepling his fingers before his nose. "I've borne witness."

With a tip of his chin, Harry acknowledged this. "And I thank you. I believe Nagini is one last horcrux. She will have to be dealt with."

"I can't," the other man stated without a pause. "I can't. It would be—"

"I'm not asking you to. I'm saying it has to happen. So, I'm going to see what kind of plan I can come up with this month, now that I'm here, and I'd appreciate it if I can ask you to help."

Severus drew in a long, slow breath before rising to his feet to stare into the fire. Harry waited; he knew that this would be a trial, of sorts, for Severus Snape. There was time, and he didn't want to push too hard, here at the very end of his own path to his personal doom.

He knew he'd have to kill Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, after eliminating the final horcrux. It was his doom, his fate, his destiny.

He refused to avoid it any longer.

"All right," Severus murmured, hands in the pockets of his trousers. "All right. I'll be his man, keep my eyes open, and try to decipher what he wants. But Potter—Harry," he amended, turning to stare at him with narrowed eyes, "it had better be before Yule. He might have a . . . new surprise for the Ministry by the new year."

Harry blew out a breath and rose to his feet. "Right. We'll do our best, Severus." He didn't extend a hand; they didn't have that kind of working understanding. "Thank you."

On the way back to his own quarters, he asked a portrait if they could point the way to Professor Granger's rooms. Having received aid, Harry made his way there—they really were close to his, after all—and rapped quietly on the door. He just . . . really wanted to see her as the last thing on his first day.

The door opened a bit and the curled end of a braid snaked out before the rest of her head appeared. "Harry!"

"Hermione. Sorry for bothering you."

"Not at all! Want to come in?"

Tempting, but . . . "Er, no. Not just now. I just . . ." He studied her, the bright brown gaze, the interested lift of her eyebrows, the welcoming expression. "I just wanted to see your face before I turned in," he told her in total honesty.

She dropped her gaze, but she was smiling. "Oh. Well. Then I suppose you have, now? Are you all right, Harry? Did the meeting go well?"

He nodded slowly, resisting the urge to curl the delicious end of that braid around one finger. "It did. I just didn't want the last thing on my mind to be Severus Snape." He smiled a little, hoping she would as well.

"I promise not to set him on fire. He's not a bad bloke, you know. And he really is a brilliant potioneer."

"I know. Thank you, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be there. Good night."

It was a matter of mere steps back to his own door, but Harry smiled at each one. He did have a doom. A dark one. The prospect of planning the basic murder of another wizard could never be taken lightly.

Preparing for his own possible death as an alternative to that murder was dark as well, but he'd had it in mind for quite some time. Still, there was much to live for.

There was a braid of hair he wanted around his finger. Friends whom he thought might stand by him, there at the end, and a life, perhaps, past Yule.

All much better thoughts with which to end his day.

* * *

 _A/N: So that's_ **Harry** _as we begin. Next chapter,_ **Neville** _! And if you want a peek into his head, just cast the revealing charm:_ **Aparecium** _! Remember, it only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs! (Note for anyone new to my fics: I won't send sneak peeks to those who don't wish to have them, which is why I recommend casting the charm if and only if you want to have a sneak peek. You can review without the charm and I still respond, but w/o the peek.)_

 _More of the intervening years and things will be fleshed out as we proceed. Honest. :)_

 _Until next time...!_


	4. Definitely Something

_A/N: Not sure of the actual origin of the concept, but I first heard of a "Protected Member" of a House from the awesome **Keira Marcos** and her Harmony fic _**Phoenix** _. Her eponymous website is where she posts and she's super talented._

 _And my thanks to everyone who is reading and adding this fic to their lists! A special cup of the good stuff to all who review, as well. I do so enjoy interacting with y'all._

 _Many of you have mentioned how cute (or some other positive adjective) the Neville/Hermione relationship has been to this point. I heartily recommend checking out Calebski's Flourishing Devotion here on FFn. I've added it to my Favorites list on my profile for the link. :)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 **DEFINITELY SOMETHING**

 ** _September, 2002_**

"And there we go, see? With the added help from the Encouragement charm, the roots dig deep more quickly than they'd do on their own, like so." Neville spoke in a hushed tone to the assembled first year Ravenclaws gathered around the observation terrarium. The roots of the small moly plant burrowed into the soil into which they had been planted, and the children were all agog.

The visible terrarium system had been very well received when Neville had suggested it two years prior. These firsties were simply adding more ticks to the approval rating.

"Professor Longbottom?"

"Yes, Miss Grant?"

The girl with blue eyes and teak-hued skin cocked her head. "What is moly good for? I've never seen it in my mum's garden."

"Excellent question, five points to Ravenclaw. Anyone know the answer?"

A chorus of voices responded as if they'd rehearsed. "It's used in the Wiggenweld Potion!"

Neville had to chuckle, rocking back on his heels and ushering everyone back to their seats. Of course they'd know; they were _Ravenclaws_. "Quite so. Five more points to Ravenclaw. It's also one of the first treatments for someone under an unknown enchantment, for the moly can be _eaten_ as soon as one knows they have been put under an enchantment. It doesn't always work, but it can be tried. So it behooves everyone to have some. Questions?"

The students all shuffled their parchments and exchanged glances before looking up at their professor and shaking their heads. "No, sir, Professor Longbottom," Anastasia Grant said, clearly speaking for everyone.

Future Prefect Candidate, for sure. "Right, then. For next lesson, remember to bring the saplings I gave you the first day this term." He moved to stand behind his desk in front of the blackboard and set about ordering the essays the class had turned in that hour.

"Yes, Professor Longbottom!"

"As you say, Professor Longbottom!"

"Goodness, Professor Longbottom, you do have them singing in chorus," a very adult voice said quietly from behind him.

"Ah, Professor Granger," he murmured, unable to suppress his smile. "Fancy seeing you here, just when I've got a free hour."

"Mm-hmm," she said quietly, acknowledging the departing students with a nod. "Tea in mine?"

He waited until all the youngsters were away before wandlessly causing the door to close. The happy surprise in Hermione's eyes was all the reward he needed for that bit of showing off. He enfolded her in a light embrace, though he was a bit tense until she unfastened his outer "professor robe" to wind her arms about his middle. As always, the specter of Harry Potter lingered nearby. As it had for years.

Which, now that the man was with them at Hogwarts, was rather more disconcerting than it had been. Still, Neville relaxed and relished the quiet moment with Hermione. At length, when they'd stood still and silent for several minutes, relaxing their bodies into each other's, fingers tracing light patterns over clothing, he hummed lightly into her hair and asked, "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" It was a bit of a risk, her leaving the security of the castle, but he thought it would work. Besides, he had help.

Hermione leaned back, eyes alight. "What, did you find a new plant at Dogweed?" She made a show of craning her neck about, as if to find evidence. "Or is Harry's presence making Hogsmeade somehow _less_ dangerous?"

"Funny you should ask." With a smile, Neville moved them until he was sitting on the edge of his desk. "Harry wants to come as well. He said he wanted to scout out the village before the regular school visit to Hogsmeade so . . . we went last night."

With a sound between an admonitory laugh and gasp, Hermione tugged out of his embrace. "So _that's_ where you went! _Without_ telling me!" She huffed. "Leaving me open for the great deluge of third year girls."

"Better you than me, love," Neville retorted, reaching out a hand and urging her back against himself. "I _am_ sorry. I didn't know I'd—we'd—be missed. You usually handle the third years just fine."

Hermione nodded and settled slowly into him again, her back to his chest, her hands moving lightly over his enveloping arms. He so appreciated how tactile she was; he'd never had much physical affection in his life unless he was with her. Gran loved him, but she was not of an affectionate nature. Hermione had hugged him—and Ron and Harry—early and often, when they were young.

She still did. He'd seen her hugging Harry when they met at the head table before breakfast. And of course, she still surrounded Neville himself with her attention and affection in a variety of physical ways. Ways that made him smile to remember even now.

Even when he was, well, introducing the _other_ object of her affection to the mix for a date.

After a fashion.

She made a little humming sound. "And I gather, from your invitation, that you two _experts_ have declared Hogsmeade safe enough for me?"

Recalled to his invitation, Neville pressed her more tightly against himself for a moment and chuckled. "I think that, between the two of us, Harry and I might make about _one_ Hogsmeade Safety Expert." When she laughed lightly and slid her hands up to his shoulders, he took advantage of the opportunity to bend over her shoulder and brush his lips over her ear. It always made her gasp and shiver and he adored that far more than was appropriate, all things being equal.

She arched her chest out a bit and he felt the undersides of her breasts on his arms. Without allowing himself to think about it, he slid his hands around and up to cup the firm curves of her, brushing over their peaks with his thumbs. Her response was immediate and it sent heat bolting through him like summer lightning.

"Neville . . ." she whispered as she pushed her bum back into his growing erection. "You always know . . ."

He did, because he knew every bit of her torso, really. Though he had first explored it strictly in a medical manner, slathering burn paste and then a scar-healing salve over her back when they'd been students themselves. But those memories were not in the forefront of his mind just at the moment. Rather, he was remembering the last time she'd said his name in just that way, over the summer at the manor after his Gran had gone to her suite of rooms for the night and he and Hermione had come so very close . . .

"Tea. In mine," she whispered, pressing her breasts into his hands with definite intent.

"Hermione, love, what about Harry?"

Hermione sighed and shifted and looked up at him from her lower angle, pursing her lips for a moment. "Is there something you want to tell me, Nev?" Nonplussed, he could only stare at her as she turned—still between his thighs—and captured his hands in hers before asking again, "Is there?"

"Something?"

Her eyes narrowed a bit before she flicked the tip of her tongue over her lips. "Something between, well, maybe, erm . . ." A blush suffused her skin and Neville wanted to nuzzle her cheeks and keep it there. "I don't know if you know it, Nev, but you've brought up his name every single time we've kissed since September first." She quirked her lips in a small smile as she met his gaze squarely. "So, is there something you need to tell me about you and Harry? Hm? I know we were both looking forward to seeing him, and I know you've kept in touch with him as I have—"

"I didn't spend that birthday with him, though," Neville countered swiftly, laughing a little to himself. This was _not_ where he had ever imagined such a talk would go. "That would have been you. And I have it on good authority, Professor Granger, that he is quite interested in _you_."

She let out a huff. "Of _course_ he is; that's why he made sure to tell me where you went last night, the pair of you." She frowned, a small furrow appearing betwixt her brows. "No, of course he didn't. Neither of you did. You have spent rather a lot of time together, though, haven't you?"

"Wait, no, Hermione." Was he blushing as well? Neville didn't check, he just kept talking. "We went there to see if it would be safe for you. Harry is, honestly, worried about that. A lot. Ranted a bit about how it was all his fault and—"

She held up one hand until he stopped talking. Then, she cupped his cheek with it. "So why do you keep bringing him up?"

"Because _you_ always have," he murmured, pressing her hand into his skin, watching her very carefully. "For years, love. I never, I guess, knew what would happen if we were all in one place again."

The furrow reappeared. "What? Did you think that I was—that we were—what?" Her cinnamon brown eyes went wet with obvious tears.

With a sigh, he gathered her into himself. "We have never been a formal thing, Hermione. And I've always known you had, well—" _Merlin, this is awkward_. "You've always had a thing for him, yeah?" She stiffened in his arms, but he didn't let her go. She'd just get mad, then, and he didn't want that to happen.

"I have always had a thing for you as well, Neville Longbottom. You're a wonderful man and I've even said so."

He chuckled and nuzzled her hair, waiting for her to relax a bit against him once more. "I've heard you, love. And if I had the faintest hope that it was _only_ me, you'd have been my wife a year ago." Strangely enough, that didn't even hurt to acknowledge; it was a part of them, him and Hermione. Always had been.

She froze before tilting her head far back to meet his eyes. "Really, Neville?"

"Oh, yeah." The heat rose under his skin again, but he winked at her to let her know he was not being all heavy or anything at the moment. "You're everything I could ever want in a woman, Hermione Granger. But. I'm not asking for that right now, so . . ."

"Because of Harry?" She bit her lip and pushed away from him when he wasn't expecting her to do so, effectively escaping before tugging at a long lock of her own hair and pacing before him. "He and I have never, you know . . ." She halted after a moment, catching and holding his gaze with her own. "But apparently, you've already been to Hogsmeade with him, so maybe I should be asking him about his intentions toward you?"

"No! Blimey, Hermione," he muttered, hiding his eyes by the efficient means of scrubbing at his face with the heels of his hands. "No. I was more concerned about the pair of you, to be honest. You've been so at ease with him and all, even though it's been ages." He forced a small smile and looked past her head toward the rear of his classroom, where the terrarium was stationed. "His letters make you glow, love," he murmured. "Since you were thirteen. How can I compete with that?"

"Neville Longbottom." Her tone was _entirely_ admonitory that time as she crossed the small space that separated them and took his hands once more. "It's never been a competition." Pressing her lips together, she clearly began putting her words in order.

The expression reminded him fondly of when they'd been fifth years revising for their O.W.L. exams. She worked so hard to prove she had a place in the magical world. She faced down that Merlin-damned dragon, rescued Neville himself from the bottom of Black Lake, even though the effects of the gillyweed she'd used to facilitate breathing under water ripped open some of her burn scars, and she'd managed to survive the final Task, though Viktor Krum had taken home the Champion's Cup. Hermione Granger was the most amazing woman and no matter how her next words fell from her lips, Neville knew they'd be logical and reasonable and he'd likely find himself agreeing with whatever she said.

"You've been here. Every day. Through everything. You're my best friend, Neville. You're an amazing wizard—you even killed that damned basilisk!—and you are, even more, a wonderful _man_. You didn't let your grandmother take you from Hogwarts. From _me_ ," she added, her voice cracking and her fingers tightening around his. He felt his heart clench and his chest tighten at the emotion she was allowing herself to show. After a quick sniff, she continued and he was held speechless. "You have been with me, protecting me, helping me, showing me how to go on. You've . . . shown me so much, Neville. So very much. How could anyone, anywhere, be better than you?"

He tried to speak, but his words got caught in his throat so he drew her near again and kissed her. Long, sweet, and with all the pent-up feelings he had held for her for years. She tasted of salt and tea and her breath came in soggy gasps when she pulled her lips from his.

"So why Harry?" she whispered. "You didn't say . . . well, you didn't say there was nothing there, either. I know it's not the normal thing in the Muggle world, but I can't go there anymore. I live here, with you. With Magic. And Neville, if you, if you care for Harry, I, I can—"

"Me? What about _you_?" Neville found his voice and a cracked laugh as well.

"That is not an answer, Neville." With an abrupt turn, she was out of his embrace once again and wiping her eyes and face with the tips of her fingers. "You asked me to Hogsmeade. With you and Harry. I accept. Maybe," she added with bit of a smile in her eyes, "I'll be able to figure you out."

"I told you Harry's interested in you," Neville stated, clearly, just in case she'd forgotten.

"Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Interested in him?"

"Hermione . . ."

"When did this get so weird?" she asked, running her hand over the back of one of the student chairs and not looking at him at all. "I mean, this past summer?"

He smiled and huffed out a breath, remembering. "Yeah. So close, right?"

"And then you remembered the Protocols and lo, I remain a virgin." She snorted a bit and so did he.

"So do I," he reminded her, smiling. "But it was a near thing, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "It really was." She smirked at him. "Were you going to call out his name or mine?"

"Hermione!"

Laughing, Neville Summoned his leather book bag before opening the classroom door. The two of them left the room and made their casual way toward the professors' quarters. Hermione had, after all, invited him for tea.

It wasn't until later that he realized they hadn't really resolved anything. They'd merely aired out a few old feelings and relished newer ones. Harry Potter had always been there in their relationship, even if only as a topic of conversation.

Did he, Neville, have any feelings other than friendship for Harry? Was that even a _thing_ , for him?

By the time he met the other man at the head table that evening, he still didn't know, but he refused to meet Hermione's questioning looks.

Hermione greeted Harry with a hug, which Harry returned as had become customary. "Hermione! Nev! Good day? Hermione," he went on, pulling out her chair and studying her face at the same time. "You look as if you'd had an upset?"

Neville held his breath as Hermione took the offered seat. "Just a bit, yes," she proclaimed, taking her napkin and flaring it dramatically before placing it on her lap. "My two best mates, see, hared off to Hogsmeade without inviting me."

Relaxing, Neville caught Harry's laughing glance. "She caught us," Neville muttered.

Harry's brows rose, crinkling the (in)famous scar. "Did you ask her?"

"To come to Hogsmeade with us? Yes, yes I did, but you should probably ask her as well. See if she'll bend your ear as she did mine!"

Harry's smile was a bit wary, which Neville felt was only fair, as the men sat on either side of Hermione. She pretended to ignore them, but her heightened color was a sure indicator of her awareness, if Neville was any judge.

And he was!

Harry cleared his throat after directing a questioning look to Neville. "Er, Hermione. I understand from you and Nev that you've not been able to visit the village very often, of late. I, I'm sorry. Nev and I went down last night so I could, well, get a feel for it."

"Oh? And you couldn't ask me to join you?"

Neville coughed on a laugh at the distressed angle to Harry's expression. Then, he poured a cup of tea for Hermione, with a quick drop of milk as she preferred it of late. He didn't say anything, though. He was having far too much fun watching Harry's obvious efforts to navigate himself back to Hermione's good opinion.

"Er, well? I thought it would be best to go ourselves, first, you know. And then," he went on, scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks reddened, "I wasn't sure if Sirius and Remus were up to company. You know?"

"Your godfather is here already?" Hermione's voice rose in clear surprise. "And you didn't tell me?"

"They only just got settled yesterday," Harry said, darting a look toward the students as if to forestall any curiosity. "You may recall what, er, pranksters the pair of them are?"

Hermione shook her head, a smile in her eyes. "I do remember your having said so. All right, fair point."

Harry leaned back in his chair in what Neville imagined was overplayed relief. Neville watched him, then, wondering about what Hermione had said in partial jest earlier that day. _Did_ he truly bring Harry up every time he and Hermione were together? How did he actually feel about the other man? Yes, he liked Harry. Sure. Harry was a bit self-effacing, but was kind and respectful of authority, which Neville appreciated. His eyes were striking, yes, and Neville trusted the emotions indexed within them. This was important as well.

But was he _attracted_ to him? He was . . . _interested_ in perhaps investigating the possibility. He'd never been attracted to a man before; it had always been Hermione. Just Hermione.

But Hermione had always had Harry as a, well, a part of her. From their earliest days in Hogwarts, it seemed to Neville. Yet she was undeniably involved with Neville in an emotional and physical way.

 _Look at her, though_ , Neville reflected, drinking his tea and watching the couple out of the corner of one eye. _She's turned to face him, her body is leaning in his direction and, yes, she's touching his hand right there whilst they're talking. And look, he's taking her hand, now, there, and lowering it so that none of the kids can see._

 _Oh yeah. Definitely something there._

 _But do I want to find out if there is room for all of us?_

Neville felt his own skin heat as Harry's focus shifted to him. "Right, Nev? Won't be a problem, will it? Me taking Hermione down to see Sirius and Remus, now that she's been warned?"

"Not at all," he said without a pause. "Just make sure their Floo is secure. I'm sure Minerva will let you use her connection in her office."

"Right, then. It's a date."

"All three of us, right?" Hermione asked, her moving a bit so she could encompass both of them, Neville guessed, with her question. "We're all three going together?"

"Yes!"

Neville had to laugh when he and Harry made that affirmation with simultaneous—and loud—enthusiasm.

"Good." Hermione nodded.

* * *

 _A/N: Now, this is not necessarily going to be free from relationship awkwardness. So please bear with me, yeah? Remember, if you want a sneak peek into the next chapter (posting on Friday, yep) cast the revealing charm: **Aparecium**! It only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs!_


	5. Hogsmeade

_**A/N:** I am using the actors in the movies for my characters, here, which is why Neville has the eyes he has. However, Harry will have green eyes in my stories even though Daniel Radcliffe's blue eyes are perfectly eloquent._

 _My thanks as always to **Katmom** for putting up with me for all these years. She always gets the first, messy, "using too many of that particular adjective" rendition as I email bits and pieces to her, but she still says she likes my words. Go figure!_

 _And a deep curtsy to **Black Banshee** , who caught review #100. Thank you! :)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 **HOGSMEADE**

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror in her quarters and wished that she didn't feel so anxious about going to the village that day. In a nod to it being a "Hogsmeade Weekend", she let her hair just _be_. Past her shoulders, more voluminous than the average tumbleweed from an old western film, but soft. "Well, no," she muttered, frowning at her reflection. " _Accio_ clip!" A very basic and boring black hair clip flew from her chest of drawers to her hand and she pulled back some hair at each temple to clip it from her face. That was better.

"Oh, dear. Those shoes, dearie," the mirror protested, moving of its own accord to better reflect her shoes.

"Do not make me Silence you, Reffie," she retorted. "They are sensible Mary Janes and are excellent for walking. And running. And landing after Apparition." Not that she had a license to do that; by the time she was old enough to officially "learn", the Ministry wasn't allowing Muggle-born wizards and witches to learn this essential skill.

So Lady Longbottom had taught her. And Lady Longbottom had removed the Trace from her wand. And seen to it that Hermione knew all the basic "witchly wellness" spells she would have learnt if she'd been anything but a Muggle-born witch. Lady Longbottom was a heroine. And a righteous duelist!

"Fine, fine," the opinionated mirror declared airily. "But I thought you were going on a date! All the portraits are talking about it!"

"They are not!" Hermione's cheeks flared with heat. "And it's not a _real_ date. It's just the three of us, you know. We never got to go to Hogsmeade when we were children."

The surface of the mirror seemed to ripple a bit before reflecting Hermione in her conservative black skirt and tights, white blouse with the embroidered cuffs, and her best red robesAlbeit they were robes she'd purchased two years prior. With a decided nod, Hermione turned her back on her reflection. _I am neither over- nor underdressed, and a skirt and blouse is always in good taste._ That lesson had come from her mother's store of social wisdom, but it had stood her in good stead in the archaic world in which she lived, even if a red professorial robe covered most everything.

When she saw Neville and Harry basically in trousers, button-down shirts, and their own robes—they were, after all, ostensibly serving as chaperones for the students—Hermione knew she'd chosen properly.

* * *

"You know, in the 1920's, the village hosted the first ever Magical Waterplants Festival," Neville was saying as they left ahead of the students to do a quick early vetting of Hogsmeade before the deluge of third through seventh years. Hermione grinned at him, loving how his enthusiasm lit his clear, green gaze.

She smiled a bit and ducked her head, avoiding the eyes of both her companions that sunny morning, using the pretext of having to step over a rock to gather herself. Neville had been a rather heavy blond boy when last she'd been with both him and Harry. As he'd matured, though, the blond hair went to brown—not an uncommon progression at all, she'd noticed over her life, though the progression rarely went the other way, oddly enough—and the baby fat of his early years gave way to long muscles and lean height. He was clean-shaven that morning, and though she liked it when he was scruffy, she also appreciated the smooth skin she knew she could caress right _there_ if she wished. He chose that moment to run his fingers along his jawline—had he noticed her perusal and was teasing her? No, he was actually looking to Harry at the moment. Which made her smile.

But she let her gaze linger on his, on his fingers, remembering.

 _"_ _Hermione, I—I—" Neville stuttered, clearly in shock as she lay underneath Madam Pomfrey's ministrations. "Your back!"_

 _Hermione summoned a smile, which was possible due to the amazing amount of pain potions she was taking. "It's a mess, right?"_

 _"_ _Yeah!" Neville blurted, clenching his hands into fists. This happened at about eye-level for her, so she focused on the whitening of his knuckles and the way he shook his fingers out after. "Can I do anything? Anything? Please, I feel so helpless!"_

 _Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue. "I have to treat Mister Diggory's burns as well, Mister Longbottom, so if you think you can calm down enough to be of use to Miss Granger, here, I'll trust you to put this salve on her shoulders." She had scowled. "Only on her shoulders, mind."_

 _Hermione remembered blushing, because she could feel with every bit of her that she was bare above the waist, though she had towels and such bundled up around her body and to preserve modesty whilst the matron treated her extensive burns. Dragonfire was brutal and pervasive. "I trust him, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione had murmured._

 _Neville nodded his head far too rapidly. "You're using an aloe-based salve, yes? I grow that in the greenhouses at the manor. I can grow more if, if Hermione needs more, Madam Pomfrey. Professor Sprout's been teaching me about the efficacy of rapid-growth spells on—"_

 _Hermione stifled a chuckle as the matron sighed and handed the glass jar of salve to her best friend. "Here, Mister Longbottom. For Merlin's sake, use your hands instead of your tongue!" Then, as if she'd just heard what she'd said, the matron turned bright red. "Pardon me. Well. You know what to do, I'm sure."_

 _"_ _Yes, ma'am," Neville whispered. And he took the salve, muttering apologies about his clumsiness._

 _He had come by faithfully, every day for a week, to apply that salve. And then he rubbed the special potions into her back to make sure her skin stayed supple whilst the scars stretched after she was, technically, healed from the ferocious burns._

 _Years later, she could never see Neville's fingers without remembering those weeks during which she came to care so very much for him, though she'd only been fifteen._

Harry chuckled a bit, drawing her attention to her _other_ companion that day. Her _other_ crush. The boy she'd been so dreadfully nervous about hugging at his birthday party but she had done it—she was a Gryffindor, damn it!—and for all that she had been shy of fifteen years, her intuition had been pretty fair, back then. But then she'd been seen or guessed at or something and had been targeted . . .

"Hermione?"

Hermione stumbled a bit and was pleasantly surprised when both her escorts caught at her to prevent her from falling to the pebble-strewn path. "Sorry!" she gasped, embarrassed. "Er, woolgathering." Right, that was one way to explain her entire preoccupation with the pair of far-too-attractive men she was spending the day with.

Harry laughed a little. "Absent-minded professor, there?"

Neville joined with his own amused remark. "Must be the company, eh, Professor Granger?"

She struck out with a few long paces, calling back over her shoulder, "My mind, gentlemen, is highly organized. If it seems otherwise, it is due, of course, to deep thoughts."

Their laughter followed her for the next several steps and she enjoyed hearing their voices blend together. Neville's voice was, perhaps, more inherently cultured than Harry's, but Harry's day-to-day speech carried less of England than she was used to hearing, making it a bit exotic, really. It was as if his British notes had been contoured elsewhere, for all he'd been educated in England for the earliest years of his life.

The two of them—Harry and Neville, she saw as she risked a glance over her shoulder—walked well together. Not that they were obviously together _like that_ , but she could see it as a _possibility_ , for all she had no liking for Divination. Growing up, such a thought would have been considered "wrong" in her Muggle world, but she had been ripped forcefully from that world and had no choice but to immerse herself wholeheartedly into the _this_ world.

She had begun noticing Neville's apparent preoccupation with Harry a couple of years ago. How her boyfriend kept bringing up their mutual friend during, well, more intimate moments. Was it just a way to break the tension, she had wondered for a long while. Just a way to keep himself focused and remind her that she had options?

He'd been very clear on that. Which was why she was still a virgin but still protected by House Longbottom.

Having both her best friends here, together, was sure to be interesting. Even if . . .

Even if it turned out that Harry and Neville did rather enjoy one another's company over hers. Yes, even then. They both more than deserved to be happy. Happy to their hearts.

Their voices alternated behind her, weaving in and out of the breezy autumn morning air, and she smiled to hear them. _Yes, even without me. They deserve it._

"Wait! Hermione! Oi, how'd you get so far ahead?"

Footfalls caught up to her, male hands captured her own in theirs, and they continued their walking trip to Hogsmeade as a trio. Again. "Only missing Ron, you know," she lied. But it still stood. It would have been fun to have him with them this weekend.

"He's in Spain this week," Harry said. "But he wrote to say he'd be back home for Hallowe'en, if I wanted to meet up."

"You should go." Hermione glanced up at him at an angle. His jaw was sharp, his eyes clear. Green eyes. Sharp, bright green contrasted to Neville's moss-green. Like emeralds and fauna. Whilst she herself had eyes, so Nev had told her, the color of cinnamon. He had developed a nice turn with words . . .

"We could make it a reunion," Neville ventured.

Harry shook his head once, very sharply, and his hand around Hermione's tightened. "No, we can't. See, I—I have a plan and I kind of, well . . ." His voice trailed away before he stopped and turned in the path, keeping Hermione next to him. And, since she was also holding Neville's hand, he was perforce compelled to halt as well.

Hermione frowned and studied Harry's expression. Caution had replaced his laughter. A determination was there as well. "What is it?" she wanted to know. "What's got you looking like you're going to war?"

"I am," he murmured.

Neville, at the same moment, said, "He is."

"Because of _him_ ," Hermione whispered.

"Yeah. It's—"

"Prophesied," Neville said. He shrugged when both Harry and Hermione shot scowls in his direction. "What? It is. I've talked about it with Dumbledore and my gran and I know you have, Harry, and—"

"And no one saw fit to discuss it with me? Excuse me!" Annoyed, Hermione jerked her hands out of theirs and turned back to the village. "We have a job to do, today. This morning. And I'm going to do it. Prophecies." She blew out a breath and did not heed the men as they called out to her and paced behind her. Leave her out, would they? _Men_.

Wand out, she reached the outermost buildings of Hogsmeade. A small shop with basic necessities for the year-round residents of the village, a cluster of cottages about a patch of green. There was Dervish and Bangs, and yes, they appeared to be ready. She nodded at the shopkeeper, who was opening a window and sweeping out the front door. And Gladrags, too.

"Hullo!" the proprietor called. "Students coming down today, ma'am?"

"Yes, indeed. Directly after breakfast." Hermione drew closer to the shop and smiled. She did, though, keep her wand in her hand. "Professors Longbottom and Potter are here with me to do a quick walk-through before they arrive."

The elderly woman with glowing white hair nodded sagely, fingertip to the side of her nose. "O'course. Well done o'ye, to be sairten."

"Anything odd, this morning, ma'am?" Hermione glanced past the woman to the shadowy interior of her shop. "Suspicious characters or anything?"

"Well, no, not that I've seen today. Saw summat last night, I did, but oh, there they are, now. Them's who I saw, right there."

"Oh?" Hermione clenched her fingers about her wand and turned slowly, only to see Harry and Neville. Her breath came out in a rush. "Oh. Thank you. Professors Potter and Longbottom."

"That's them as came by last night, aye. Potter. Is _that_ Harry _Potter_?"

"That's what he tells us," Hermione responded, still irritated with both the men.

"Hermione!" Neville approached her first, but smiled a bit at the shopkeeper before making excuses and tugging her away. "Look, we're sorry, okay?"

They said the niceties to the shopkeeper before they tugged her lightly on her arms to lead her away a bit. Hermione let them, because she didn't want to be irritated forever and she knew there had to be a good reason—Neville was quite protective of her and Harry would have done more if he had been allowed, he'd said.

. . . .

 _1 December 1994_

Hermione,

I am completely shattered, here, having read about what happened to you in the Triwizard Tournament. Utterly. I told Sirius, when you sent word that your name had somehow been held forth as a champion for some unknown reason (Did you ever find out who did that? Sirius will ruin them, I swear!) for that Tournament, that we had to go back and find a way to get you out of it.

Sirius is being an arse—sorry, Hermione, but he is—and he doesn't even want me writing to you anymore, because he is worried someone has found a way to put tracking charms on Muggle mail. I doubt that, but I do not doubt that this happened to you because of me, and I swear I am doing my best to get back to Hogwarts to keep you safe, if we can't get you out of this bloody competition.

But, if you don't want to continue writing, I understand. There is no need for you to be in further danger because of me.

I've sent word to Charlie Weasley—one of Ron's brothers, if you haven't met him, yet—who is working with the dragon reserve in Romania. He'll be able to help you recover. If there is anything you need, from potions to nursing to special tutors or anything, you let him know, and he'll see it's done.

I know I keep saying it, over the years, but I am truly sorry.

Your friend, even if I shouldn't be,

Harry

. . . .

 _10 December 1994_

Dear Harry,

I will always be your friend. Never doubt that. Neville is writing for me, right now, and he's been wonderful. Charlie Weasley has as well. Very helpful in explaining the long-term effects of dragonfire burns. I'll be all right, truly.

Don't come back to Hogwarts, Harry. I'm stuck in this thing—even Lady Longbottom has tried to get me out, to no effect—but I'll get through. I will. With friends like you and Nev, how could I not?

Happy Christmas, Harry.

Your friend,

Hermione

. . . .

"All right, apologies accepted," Hermione said at last, using the excuse of tucking her hair back into its very Muggle clip as reason for reclaiming her arms from both men. "But tell me, what is happening on Hallowe'en?"

Harry and Neville exchanged another, far-too-significant look and Harry blew out a breath. "Let's check out the village first, all right? And then, we can send word to Minerva and have some ale or something at—where was that, Neville?"

"The Three Broomsticks."

"Right. Sirius and Remus will join us a bit later, but we'll have some time to, ah, talk, yeah?"

Neville offered her half an apologetic smile and Hermione supposed it would have to do. They spoke of light nothings as they strode through the village, checking in with shopkeepers. Harry cast some quiet spells on the sly that he said were useful for detecting Death Eaters, which Hermione totally appreciated.

"Can you teach me?" she whispered the second time he'd done so. "It would be handy to be able to do that. I could get out more, perhaps." She looked to him hopefully, feeling Neville's hand on her lower back as they rounded a shallow corner.

"I can," Harry replied, before adding slowly, "But with any luck? We'll be done with this before Yule."

"Done?!" Her heart leapt even as her skin chilled. She darted a glance to Neville. "Really?"

"Could be . . ." Neville said, his expression pensive. "C'mon, Harry. Let's hear what you're planning, eh?"

"Is it anything like first year?"

They stepped quickly toward the pub, and Hermione enjoyed the brief foray into lightheartedness as the three of them reminisced about their adventures in the one year at Hogwarts they had all shared.

"Do we have to defeat Devil's Snare?" Hermione quipped.

"We can call Ron in to play chess," Neville countered.

Harry chuckled a little. "Or we could, you know, make a Dark Lord scream . . ."

"I like that one." Hermione flipped out her wand and twirled it a little as she glanced up to see the morning clouds burning away to reveal a misty morning sun. "So long as he dies at the end."

Neville pursed his lips for a moment, nodded, and opened the door to the pub, bowing a bit to usher her in. She led the way, but waited for the men to join her. "Where should we sit, Harry? Should we see if there's a private room . . ."

Both Harry and Neville seemed to choke, stumble, and blush all at once and Hermione let herself laugh a little as Harry gasped, "Hermione!"

"For our talk, you prat! What did you think I meant?"

Neville coughed and paused on his way toward a table near the front. He caught her eye, offered her a private, communicative smirk that reminded her distinctly of their latest conversation/snog session in his classroom, and tapped the back of a seat.

"I say we sit here, so we can see and be seen. Hermione's not on the rota, but it's still not a bad idea." He looked up and waved a hand to beckon to the innkeeper, Rosmerta.

"Hullo! First Hogsmeade weekend, yeah? Good to see you all. Especially you, _Professor_ Granger. Butterbeers on me, for the first round."

After a few minutes, they were settled in and Hermione took the first sip of her icy butterbeer. "All right, Mister Potter," she said, steeling herself because he appeared to be nervous. "What is happening on Hallowe'en?"

He cast the _Muffliato_ charm that Severus Snape had created and shared with all incoming staff. Apparently satisfied, Harry met her eyes, then Neville's. "Right, then. You know that Riddle killed my parents on Hallowe'en in 1981, right?"

"Right," Hermione and Neville said in tandem. "And?"

Harry smirked a bit. "A bit weird, that you can do that at the same time. Anyway. That was twenty-one years ago and this year, I plan to, well, lure him out. Using myself as bait, really. So that I can end it once and for all. But, I am going to need help."

"You know we're with you, Harry," Hermione said, making sure to put all her confidence in her voice. She leant forward a bit over the table, pushing her drink aside and drawing absently in the condensation on the tabletop. "What can we do?"

He blinked a little and sat back, and Hermione looked toward Neville. He seemed to be as confused as she was herself, but he said, "Harry? You all right, mate?"

"I guess," their newly-returned friend said with a slow uncertainty. "I guess I'm just surprised, is all. I mean, you have to know, guys, that I feel I've let you down. Both of you, but mostly you, Hermione. And I guess it's, well, overwhelming, you know? For years, I've had Sirius and Remus, of course, but they're family, right? And you—"

Hermione took a breath, but Neville beat her to it. "We're your friends, Harry. And though you haven't been here with us in body," he said, smiling at Hermione for a moment before covering Harry's shoulder with one hand, "you've always kind of been with us in spirit."

"Always," Hermione repeated. Neville enveloped her hand with his free one, and she took Harry's. When Harry blushed, his focus shifting from her to Neville, twice, she wondered if he had been thinking of Neville as she suspected Neville might now be thinking of him and what that would mean for her.

For them, perhaps?

Perhaps.

Later. Because at that moment, it was clear in the way Harry took a breath, squeezed her fingers, and nodded, it was time to get serious. "Right, then. I will need your help. I'm working with Severus."

"Really?" Neville wondered out loud, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead.

Nodding, Harry shifted himself a bit to draw invisible wet circles on the table with his butterbeer bottle. "I didn't have him as a professor for long, you know, but I worked with him and with Headmaster Dumbledore for years. And Dumbledore trusted Severus."

Hermione didn't know what was significant about that, but she nodded. "And?"

"And Severus Snape," Harry said with a whisper, "is also a Death Eater. He's on our side, fighting against Riddle, but he's a spy. And he's going to help bring the bastard down."

Shock dropped Hermione's jaw as she tried to take that in. Neville seemed to have a bit more of an idea about what Harry was talking about, but she didn't quiz him on that at the moment. Instead, she resolved to think about it later and asked, "What do you want us to do to help?"

Harry's lips twitched in what might have been a smile, given a bit of effort. "Two things, really. First, I need you to make a scene. Something dramatic that will likely upset me." At her instant, wordless denial, he smiled a little sadly and held up a hand. "Second, I—" He paused and frowned at the bottle that was still being shifted from hand to hand on the table. "I want to ask for your help. Back-up, for when I see Riddle. But first, the scene. It's to create a memory, because . . ."

"Because You-Know-Who is a master Legilimens," Neville stated flatly. "Yeah."

"Yeah."

"But I, I don't know any Occlumency," Hermione protested, sitting back and feeling vastly inadequate. "How can I help?"

"You don't have to. He won't even know you're there, if we do it right. The only head he'll get into is mine. And probably Severus's."

She met Neville's concerned gaze. "Can we do such a scene, do you think?"

"Will she be in any danger for that scene, Harry?"

He seemed to brighten a bit, Harry did. "None whatsoever. It'll ideally happen in Hogwarts herself, and you know she's always been safe, there."

Hermione had to snort at that. A simple overextension of her shoulders were ample demonstration that she had not always been safe. Scars pulled and tugged, even though she had actually—Charlie Weasley had said, anyway—healed quite well. "Fine, and I am absolutely in for being back-up, Harry." Neville turned toward her, his heavy brows angled, but she held up a hand. "No, Nev. I want to, to fight back. I need to."

The men exchanged a glance, sighed, and nodded in tandem and then, they laughed softly. She smiled at them, leaning back in her seat and sliding her butterbeer toward her for a deep drink, eyes closed. It was good to see them together. It was good to be together again. Even the butterbeer was better.

So thinking, she flicked her tongue out over her lips to get the very last essences of her drink and opened her eyes to see what had the men so quiet.

They were staring at her, both of them, with wide eyes and faintly flushed cheeks.

She coughed, shook her head, and decided not to mention anything that might be going through their heads. "Er, so. Hallowe'en?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Harry! Neville, and it's Miss Granger as well!"

"Lord Black! Mister Lupin!" Hermione rose to her feet out of respect for the older men, as she'd been taught as a child, and extended her hand to each man. Lord Black, though, tugged at her hand a bit, silently asking her to speak with him privately. After glancing over her shoulder at Neville and Harry, who were both watching her, she followed the older man to a small, round table a few paces away.

He pulled out a chair for her and dropped immediately to the one opposite. "Miss Granger. Or should that be _Professor_ Granger?" he asked with a wary smile in his gray eyes. And though she regrettably retained some resentment for the man for taking Harry away and keeping him away even to her detriment, she had to admit to herself that he was an attractive man, with thick black hair tied back with a strip of red leather. His face was unlined, but she could see tattoos peeking up over the collar of his robes. His hands, folded in front of him on the table, looked to be strong and a bit callused. But he didn't carry himself like a pure-blood; at least not like many of those she had met at Hogwarts and elsewhere.

"Just Hermione is fine, Lord Black," she replied after a moment. "I'm sure Harry is happy that you and Mister Lupin were able to come to Hogsmeade."

"Oh, we've got ourselves a cottage here, Miss, er, Hermione. Look," he went on, leaning forward toward her, "I need to apologize to you."

The denial was automatic. "Sir, no—"

"Yes, absolutely." He grimaced and then pointed to the back of his neck. "For that, for you. And for taking Harry out of school when it seems that it put you, particularly, in jeopardy."

Blushing, Hermione touched the scars on the back of her neck, feeling exposed. Most everyone knew she had been burnt by that dragon, but she hated seeing looks of pity. "You were keeping him safe," she countered, knowing it was true even if it had been a problem of sorts. Then, she puffed out a breath. "Well, mostly. I mean, I read the _Prophet_ , of course, and Lady Longbottom and I talk about the wider world and I've heard about the, erm, incidents." Dropping her voice, she leant forward. "The _quake_ in Dover? Shipping was disrupted for days!"

"And we took out three key Death Eaters whilst we were at it, as well as destroying the final, er, anchor that was keeping Riddle immortal," he hissed back, eyes narrow. Then, abruptly, he shook himself a bit and adopted a more casual mien. "And please, if you're Hermione, then I'm Sirius, yeah? And he's Remus," he went on, indicating his partner with a tilt of his head and a smile. "And he's been most impressed with your work, here. So have I. Please, accept my apologies." All of a sudden, he became a bit boyish. "I promised Harry I'd do everything but kiss your feet to get you to forgive me for what happened to your owl and, of course, for keeping him away from the Tournament. That," he said, before taking a deep, heavy breath, "that was a hard time for me. For all of us. Harry had to be Stupefied twice and he threatened to find a Black Market portkey to get to you."

Shocked, Hermione could only blink for a moment before rubbing absently at the back of her neck. All things being equal, that would have been disastrous. "Oh. Well. It was rather a rough year, all the way around, then."

"Quite. Forgive me?"

"Of course, Lord Black." At his look, she amended that to, "Sirius. Of course."

Rising to his feet, he smiled beyond her shoulder and she turned to see Harry's anxious, anticipatory expression. She smiled as well, nodding to show she understood his concern.

They all relocated to a larger grouping of tables, Sirius calling for some chips and starters whilst the other men talked Quidditch and the possibility of Ron perhaps joining them for the planned Hallowe'en . . . event.

Hermione caught Neville's gaze and he stood to come stand behind her. "We need to plan our scene and rehearse," she whispered, her eyes on the others at their table. "From what he's told us, it needs to be as authentic as we can make it. I have an idea, but . . ."

"All right. We will." He dropped a light kiss to the top of her head before reclaiming his chair and Hermione settled back to listen to them all catch up and chat.

Especially Harry and Neville. Because for all his apparent unconsciousness about it, Neville still evinced . . . curiosity in that direction, and Hermione would do nothing to hinder his happiness.

Or Harry's.

* * *

 _A/N: Now, because this is my actual "Getting back in the saddle" multi-chapter fic, I haven't finished the entire thing, yet. The next chapter is still in process but I WILL have it done by next week. I even have a sneak peek for you already, so please wave your wand and cast the revealing charm if you want to see it! **Aparecium**! _


	6. Ominous Overtones

_A/N: My thanks again to everyone who is reading, adding this fic to their lists, and an extra dram of the good stuff to those who review!_

 _So far we've been working on The Relationships. But not today. Exactly. Because there is a plot in here somewhere. Really. :)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR  
**

 **OMINOUS OVERTONES**

The _Daily Prophet_ was delivered with the customary owls, and Neville prepared a mask for his face as he perused the front page.

 **LORD VOLDEMORT CREATES NEW MINISTRY POST**

"In honor of Wizarding Britain and the most excellent Magicals that here reside, Lord Voldemort is preparing to grant honors to the most powerful Wizards and Witches in Britain. Our leader is quoted as saying,

"'While it is true that those of the purest Magical lines are to be highly revered, it is also true that powerful Wizards and Witches can be found in other castes in our most exemplary society. A registration commission will be using careful instrumentation to measure the power of each Wizard and each Witch. This commission will be overseen by none other than Lucius Malfoy, of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy.'"

"All Magicals will be required to report to Malfoy's new Department of Magical Evaluation before Yule. The rewards will be greatest for those who come earliest, so all are encouraged to register for their personal evaluation as soon as possible."

It was only with an effort that Neville didn't sick up the bit of breakfast he had consumed already.

"Nev?" Hermione whispered, gripping his hand in hers under cover of the table.

"Cheer me up?" he begged unsteadily.

She blew out a huff of air and he could feel himself become a bit less ill over the most recent news. Smiling, he squeezed her fingers in his own. "Wandless _and_ wordless?"

She smirked a little. "I've been practicing."

He nodded, took a long breath through his nose, and studied her expression. "Don't go in to be evaluated, all right? Someone is—"

"Setting another trap for Harry. I know. Not going to go down that road again, I promise."

The colorful swears that erupted from Hermione's other side told Neville that Professor Potter had indeed seen the paper already. "Harry?"

Nostrils flaring, Harry shifted in his seat to meet Neville's eyes first, then Hermione's. "Neither of you. Neither of you go. Severus said that Riddle had something planned for Yule and I don't want either of you anywhere near. I'll owl Ron as well."

Neville brushed a glance over the pair of them, feeling Hermione's hand in his own seeing Harry's apparent distress for her. But then, the other man's attention shifted entirely to himself and Neville nodded slowly. Harry relaxed a bit, turned, and picked up a piece of cold toast.

Hermione silently followed his lead, letting go of Neville's hand and sipping at her tea. For himself, Neville couldn't eat. Not even in pretense. He just leant back in his chair and surveyed the students at the tables before them. After barely a minute, he rose, absently covered Hermione's shoulder briefly with one hand before doing so to Harry as well on his way to Minerva's more elaborate chair that held the central position at the head table.

"Headmistress?"

"Yes, Professor Longbottom?" Minerva tended to keep things formal in front of the students. She flicked the newspaper with her fingertips. "Front page?"

"Quite."

"We will not be allowing any of our students to go to the Ministry. You can be sure I will be writing to—" She let loose with a sound that expressed her aversion and distaste. "To the Malfoys and express my concern with any student being subject to such a thing. There should be an addendum relating specifically to age and so forth."

Neville laughed a little. "That's a start, anyway. Thank you, Headmistress."

He was thus able, during the day, to assure his students that no one underage should have to give a thought to the new "Department of Magical Evaluation".

He wondered if Hermione would be able to ignore it likewise. To be sure, she wouldn't go, but would there be repercussions or had they kept her presence so subdued at Hogwarts that she would not be missed?

He brought it up to Hermione during a break in their lessons of the day and she shook her head whilst tugging restlessly at the cuffs of her robes. "I'm not invisible, Nev. I am a protected member of the House of Longbottom. I won't go to be evaluated, but . . ." Biting her lip, she met his gaze and leant against the corridor wall. "They might come after me if I don't make their deadline."

"Harry said something about Yule," Neville reminded her, stepping a bit closer and lowering his voice.

She nodded sharply and took a breath. "He did. So. He also mentioned Hallowe'en. We need to get to work on that."

"Yes, yes we do."

* * *

"Move, there, Creighton! Come on!" Harry Potter's voice echoed throughout the cavernous Great Hall in the hour before the evening meal. Neville, leaning against the wall nearest the door, watched the Defense Professor and couldn't help but smile a bit.

 _"Want to come lend a hand, Professor Basilisk Bane?" Harry had asked a month into the school term._

 _Neville had blinked and then even reddened at the nickname, but he accepted it without comment. Weeks later, he still heard it occasionally, even from the sprogs, who had heard their professors all take up the appellation, much to Neville's embarrassment._

Even just that morning, actually. "So you killed a bleedin' basilisk?"

"Language, Mister Osgood."

And he had told the story to his class, who had been pleased enough to have a story after replanting their mandrakes. They all wanted to go to the Chamber of Secrets, which he absolutely declined to do, but it was still a bit gratifying to see their big eyes and hear their commendations.

Creighton appeared surprised when Harry directed him to dodge a spell with his body rather than merely shield himself from it, and Neville could see why Harry continued to ask for his presence in this part of the teaching cycle. "Ah," Harry called, beckoning with his wand. "Professor Longbottom. Great! Did you bring your dueling weapons?"

With a grin, Neville produced his knife. "I have this."

"Excellent." As Neville reached Harry's side, he couldn't help but appreciate the other man's presence in front of the group of students. Neville himself felt a bit awkward, as this was not "his" room. The environment, though familiar, wasn't one in which he felt in command, as it were. His own classroom was different. Harry, though, was apparently entirely at home.

And he made a quick strike at Neville, who proceeded to take a guarding posture and then went on the offensive with his knife, elbows, legs . . . All that he had learnt in Muggle hand-to-hand combat.

After a few minutes, Neville was pleased to see he wasn't the only one sweating when Harry called a halt to their brief demonstration.

Professor Potter cast a quick cooling charm on both of them. "As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, Professor Longbottom is adept at nonmagical combat techniques."

"But, but he's a pure-blood!" one lad called out.

"Nev?" Harry murmured, stepping back a pace and leaving Neville front and center.

Neville brandished his knife, balancing it across his palm. "Why do you think that's important, Mister Aldicott?"

The young man flushed to the roots of his overlong, brown hair. "Well, you're a wizard! Why should you have to fight? Who would want you to fight? Why would you have to?"

"You think we don't have enemies, Mister Aldicott?"

"Cor, no. I mean, you're a Longbottom, right? And you killed that, that thing, yeah? Why would _you_ need to have to fight?"

Neville nodded slowly and looked to meet Harry's questioning gaze. "As to that, I aim to stand by my friend, here, as he prepares to stand for the Light. Like Headmaster Dumbledore did."

Harry's slow smile hit Neville oddly, sending an intriguing shiver down his spine that made him smile a bit in return. _Well, Merlin, if Hermione wasn't on to something_.

"And for myself," Harry said, stepping back to the front after clapping Neville firmly on the shoulder, "I would never turn aside such a companion at arms. Nor should any of you. And you never know when someone will take your wand from you," he added, before extending his hand and, with a silent Summoning, gathering all the students' wands to his own hands as the students flew back several paces to land on their arses. "See?"

"Oi!"

"Nice one, Professor Potter," Neville said with satisfaction, rolling up on his toes with a smile.

"Thank you."

* * *

Neville poked his head into Hermione's classroom after dinner and before they had to worry about rounds. "Tea in mine?"

She blew out a breath and smiled. "Absolutely. Do you have chamomile?"

He rolled his eyes playfully. "As if I wouldn't?"

"I'll be there!" With a flick of her wand, she set the students' tables to rights before slipping her notes and such into her book bag. It had, he knew, an Undetectable Extension charm and she'd spelled it to be light as a feather. Which was, his gran had said, a good thing or she'd be built like an Amazon warrior by now—that or a hunchback.

Gran never minced words.

They spoke of daily inconsequential before reaching his quarters. Then, once they were inside the door and had set aside their things, he called for one of the house-elves to bring tea and biscuits.

Hermione took her chamomile tea without any sugar, but she still liked to stir it with the small silver spoon the elf brought. "Thank you, Libbet," she called as the house-elf popped out of the room. Then, she sighed and gave Neville a long look. "So, he said the scene has to upset him." With a guilty light in her cinnamon gaze, she swallowed. "I have an idea."

"Tell me."

"You know they're going to have a dance that night, right? Like every year."

Neville nodded before plucking a sugar biscuit from the plate between them. It crunched in a satisfying manner and practically melted on his tongue. "And?"

"Our scene could be either at the event or in a room that is transfigured to look like we're there, you know? And we could dance together, you and I . . ."

A twinge hit his chest, but he stilled it by taking a sip of his own tea. Chamomile, like hers. It was soothing for an evening's conversation like this one. "I, erm, told you he was interested in you, right?"

Her cheeks reddened, but she didn't look away from him. "You did. And . . . never mind. All right. And?"

"We could, you know, maybe snog a bit whilst we dance?"

Her nod was slow, but she didn't look as if the idea entirely satisfied her. "Would that be what he wants, though? I mean, he told me that he's got to be upset. I'm thinking we need to _upset_ him."

"Jealousy _is_ upsetting. Trust me."

Guilt returned to her face for a moment before she shook her head and tapped her fingers along the rim of her teacup. "I'm thinking, Nev, of showing him what they did to my arm. I mean, he said he needs to be upset, and he will beif he sees that."

"Merlin's beard, that's . . . " Neville blew out a breath. "Shite, Hermione. That hurts _me_ to see, and it'd . . . You'd wreck him."

Tears glimmered in her eyes, then, but she persevered, reaching across his small round table to brush her fingertips against his hand. "He indicated, if you remember on our walk home, that he needs his mind completely scrambled. So that the next thing can happen. With Snape, remember."

"Right."

 _"_ _I need to be able to come across as if I'm not, well, fully functional," Harry had confessed quietly on their walk back to the castle. Students had been near and his words had been low and intense, their bodies in close proximity as they paced slowly up the path._

 _"_ _But why?" Hermione had asked. "Why would you want to . . . confront him when you're upset?"_

 _"_ _Well, see, Severus is going to 'capture' me, and in order for that to seem even remotely feasible, I have to be at least a bit incapacitated, you know?"_

Neville turned his hand over to lace their fingers together. "All right. So we do that but I think that we should then make it kind of elaborate. Tell him it we'll be lying, okay? Because if he needs to protect himself—"

"What?" Hermione cocked her head, frowning all over her face. "What do you mean?"

Neville leaned forward to kiss her fingers. "I mean it will really hurt him, love. And if he can find a reason for it, it will make it bearable. I'd hate to add more to his burden that night."

"Oh! Right. Of course. Sorry. I guess, I guess I forget how it is . . ." She moved, shifting in her chair to pull up her left sleeve and Neville made himself study, once again, the ugly slur carved into her arm by Voldemort's cursed blade. The Dark Wanker was not yet exalted to Minister for Magic at that time, but he would be shortly thereafter. He had wanted, Hermione said, to send a message to his nemesis, Harry Potter.

So he had slaughtered the "Mudblood's Parents" before her eyes with Muggle weapons before leaving her with a permanent reminder of her "low estate". And then he'd left her alive in the house with her dead parents.

"I mean, I see it every day and it, it strikes me differently, I suppose, living with it."

"You're so strong, Hermione. So strong."

"I never blamed him, you know."

"I know. Just them."

"Always them."

"Right. So. We show him and tell him what happened but before the scene," Neville suggested, "we tell him not to believe us."

"I, I don't want to lie to Harry, Nev. I don't know if I can."

"I've got an idea," he assured her, rising to his feet to come around the table and pull her up and into his arms in a comforting hug he needed as much as he was sure she did. Her body pressed against his did not, at the moment, enflame his senses. Instead, he was just profoundly grateful she was here with him. And that, together, they would confront the monster that had madly transfigured their entire society. He told her what he was thinking and she laughed a little against his chest.

"That sounds almost Slytherin in its cunning, Nev."

He preened with overplayed pride. "I know. I've been practicing."

* * *

About a week after they had created a proper scene and rehearsed it often enough that Neville knew they could play it convincingly, Harry drew Neville and Hermione aside before they took their seats at the Head Table for lunch. "I checked in the staff lounge and, by some miraculous occurrence, none of us are on the roster tonight. Up for a bit of a walk?"

Neville nodded before he even had to think about it. "Where and when."

"Meet Severus and me by the dungeons, yeah? And wear something warm."

Hermione huffed. "Off to Hogsmeade again, are you?"

"Not a bit of it," Harry asserted with a grin. "More of a Sylvan Adventure, this evening."

Hermione's eyes grew huge. "The Forest?"

"Got it in one. With Severus." His grin fell away as he met each of their eyes. "Last chance to hammer this out before . . . Halloween. Severus is expecting to be, er, called to the Ministry any evening now and all three of us are on duty at one point or another."

Hermione snorted. "I swear, Minerva is acting like we're third years looking for a broom closet."

Neville felt his ears heat up at that, but did not look at either Harry or Hermione. Instead, he said, "Well, haring off to the forest seems remarkably familiar to some of us." He was gratified when both his friends grinned at him. The three of them, and Draco Malfoy, had served one terrifying detention out there, ten years ago, and some memories never faded. "Never figured I'd be there with Severus, however."

"Nor me," the others said on the same breath. Then, they all chuckled a bit and turned to take their seats before far too many students sussed out a "situation".

Later, with a cloak layered over his teaching robes as well as trousers and a sweater, Neville reported to the Entrance Hall. Hermione and Harry were already there, both dressed similarly to himself.

"Evening," he murmured, nodding at the pair of them. They'd been chatting—well, Hermione had been going on in the way she had, whilst Harry appeared to have been listening with all his focus on her. They both smiled at him, though, and he didn't have a sense that he had interrupted anything significant. Indeed Hermione's smirk was a bit smug and he hadn't any time to figure out why. "Where's Severus?"

"Should be here," Harry supplied, looking toward the stairs that led to the Slytherin rooms and offices down below. "Though he did say he had a potion brewing and time was important."

Hermione huffed. "Harry. He always says that. It's his own way of making sure no one is wasting his time."

"You think he's lying?" Harry wondered, brows shooting up to hide under his fringe.

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "Not exactly . . . He likely always has something brewing, as he does the main potions for the Infirmary and such, as well, I'm sure, as specials for his own students."

Neville agreed, his hands suddenly feeling empty. He wished he felt totally comfortable taking someone's hand at that moment. Oddly, though, he didn't seem to care which hand he held . . . And that made him stare at Hermione with a certain amount of awe, he knew. Was she right?

She usually was.

All thoughts of his personal relationships flew far away by the time Snape and Harry led them past the edges of the Forbidden Forest. The shadows reached out to grip his throat, it seemed to him, chilling him and causing his heart to thud painfully within his chest. Yes, he had had cause over the years to visit the forest, forbidden or not, in pursuit of his Herbology studies and so on. Pomona had taken him in and so had Severus, actually, as they hunted for special, rare seedlings, flowers, and time-significant blossoms. But somehow, that evening?

He was quite on edge.

Severus strode, his own cloak billowing out in a way that Neville always felt torn over. It was ridiculously dramatic, but the action made an impact and Neville thought that was kind of appealing. "So, Potter," the Potions Master intoned, flipping his wand to cast a faint, wordless _Lumos,_ "Here is where I believe we can lure our illustrious Minister for Magic into the open, as it were."

Hermione shivered, and Neville reached for her hand without thinking about it. She cleared her throat. "How many do you think will join him, Severus?" With her free hand, she gestured around the clearing, with its drooping branches and the faintly lit eyes of wild creatures above them. "And do you think he'll be actively sensing Disillusionment Charms or other such things?"

The question appeared to take Severus aback a moment, before he angled one brow and nodded. "This, Miss Granger, is a sound point. As to his companions, I can't say, to be honest. He will have guards, his Death Eaters, and perhaps some Ministry flunkies. If you do choose to Disillusion yourselves, you will still want to remain out of as many lines of sight as possible; there is no telling who will have, perhaps, a Foe Glass or similar object. Though I will try," he added with a rather tired air, "to discourage them. Perhaps I can set up wards that will cause them to glow or burn or . . . "

"That's ideal," Harry interjected. He glanced at Hermione. "Are you sure you want to be here?"

"Absolutely. After we finish our business inside, Nev and I will come out."

"Sirius and Remus will be here, as well as Ron Weasley, along with a full contingent of Aurors from the Ministry."

"Are you sure?" Neville inquired, squeezing Hermione's hand a little. "I mean, they all work for . . . for him don't they?"

Both Severus and Harry snorted softly. "Oh, they may be employed by him," Harry said after a moment, "but that doesn't mean they sympathize."

"You _have_ heard of _spies_ , Longbottom, haven't you?"

"Ah, of course. Well then, what can we do?"

They worked out the plan, beginning when Severus would, somehow, get Harry to the Forbidden Forest, and where he hoped the Dark Wanker would decide to make an appearance. "I'll have a better idea when I call for him," the Potions Master said.

And then, they all discussed what to do about various known Death Eaters, as well as the most terrifying guest of all, after Voldemort.

"He'll bring Nagini," Severus told them. He was now leaning against a tree. Hermione had chosen a perch on a fallen log, whilst Harry had drifted to stand behind her and next to Neville himself. "She's what he would call his assurance. A poker player would call her his Ace in the Hole."

"Secret weapon?"

"Quite, Miss Granger. She won't be evident, but she'll be in hiding and, as his familiar, she is quite intelligent and powerful in her own way. One of the Dark Lord's uses for her is to bite and/or eat disloyal followers."

"Lovely," Neville managed to say, his voice raspy.

"Quite."

"Well, as I'll be incapacitated to one degree or another, Neville," Harry said, his tone bracing, "why don't you plan on taking her out, so as not to break Severus's cover?"

Hermione bounced to her feet, her grin bright in the darkness. "Yes! The Sword of Gryffindor, Nev! You could totally do that again, right?"

Severus made a vague gesture. "You could at that, Longbottom. Nagini isn't anywhere near as intimidating as that basilisk."

He swallowed, ignored his nerves, and vowed to get Minerva to loan him the Sword. "I will, Harry. Whatever you need."

"Then I think we're good to go!"

That, Neville knew, would remain to be seen.

* * *

 _A/N: Dun dun dunnnn! Yes, Voldemort is the Minister, but this doesn't mean he's any good at it. Heh. And we're almost to Hallowe'en, so . . . hold on!_

 _Still writing, but I do have a peek into the next chapter if you'd like to see. Simply cast the revealing charm: **Aparecium**! It only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs!_


	7. Hallowe'en, Part One

_A/N: This chapter will have various perspectives on offer, to keep the action moving and the story, I hope, interesting. If you have read_ ** _Harry Potter's Doom_** _(see my profile for that one-shot), this part of the story will be somewhat familiar. I claim the liberty, however, to_ ** _change what I wrote before_** _as I create this story as a separate entity._

 _My thanks to everyone who is reading, adding this fic to your lists, and to all who review! And thank you for your patience with me as I write as I go for this one._

 _It's hard! My thanks as always to_ ** _Katmom_** _for her encouragement. She's the best._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

 **HALLOWE'EN, PART ONE**

"Professor Granger!"

Hermione turned when the sixth year Ravenclaw, Amethyst Chambers (only six or seven years younger than Hermione, but was already a handspan taller) called out to her in the corridor leading to the Great Hall. Miss Chambers charmed her hair to match her name, and even Minerva had given up trying to get her to stop doing so. After all, if a Metamorphmagus had the freedom to do change their hair color, it was unfair to forbid someone else from doing so.

Hermione settled her book bag more comfortably on her shoulder. "Yes, Miss Chambers?"

"Well, the Hallowe'en Ball is tonight . . ." Hermione nodded, waiting for what had to be an outlandish question, based upon the light in the girl's eyes. "And I was wondering, erm, if you and Professor Longbottom were going together?"

Keeping her face politely amused, Hermione simply asked, "Why? Were you wanting to ask him? Fraternization between staff and students is strictly prohibited, Miss Chambers."

"No!" A fierce blush suffused her face. "I mean, I _know_ that, Professor Granger. I just, you know, wondered?"

"As it happens," Hermione responded after a moment, "the Headmistress has a few of us on, well, alternative duties this evening. But there will be sufficient chaperonage, rest assured." _Merlin, when did I start sounding like Minerva?_ "Did you have a date?" she inquired, moving not at all subtly forward down the corridorl.

"I know fraternization isn't allowed," the girl breezed on, ignoring Hermione's query, "but do you suppose a dance is also disallowed?"

Hermione withheld her chuckle. "Do tell, Miss Chambers. Which professor did you have your eye on?" Neville? Harry? Severus, maybe? His voice was rather compelling, and more than one young lady had been overheard swooning in Potions.

The girl held up a hand. "Not really an eye on anyone, Professor. Just, you know, wanting to dance."

"Well, I will ask the headmistress to make sure she is clear about what is and is not allowed before the ball beings, shall I?"

"So you won't be there at all?"

"No. And here we are. Have a good time, this evening, Miss Chambers."

"Well, that's a relief," the Ravenclaw muttered as Hermione turned toward the Head Table.

She had to laugh. When had anyone cared whether or not Hermione Granger was or was not at a school event? Then, she saw her friends, both of them still standing, both of them with a hand on the back of her usual chair, seeming as if they were playfully arguing over who had the right to hold it for her. She felt a smile before she knew it was coming and, when they saw her, she let it free. Their answering grins warmed her chest.

It had been cold there, much of that day, what with the looming confrontation.

A moment of lightness before the dark was appreciated. Because it was going to get quite, quite dark.

"So," she said as she took control of her own seat and sat herself—last thing anyone needed was speculation in front of the students—are we ready for our private dance this evening, gentlemen?"

She regretted putting the shadows back in Harry's eyes, but it was in her nature to check and double-check everything, and both of them knew that. "Latest information," he said, darting a glance toward Severus down the table from them, "says everything is in place or will be."

"Right, then," Neville remarked. "Now, before I entirely lose my appetite, Hermione, I believe you have something you have to say?"

Guilt tightened her insides, but Hermione shifted to face Harry, calmed her expression, and took one of his hands between both of hers. "Remember, you asked for a scene that would be upsetting," she murmured. "So remember that we'll be lying, tonight. Lying to make sure this works, all right?"

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and then enveloped her hands in his own. "Right. Lying to me. I'll remember."

"Well," Neville put in, leaning closer from Harry's other side, "don't remember too well, or it'll do away with the whole scene, yeah?"

It was an effort, Hermione could see, that Harry smiled a little. "Right. Can't have that."

"No."

"No."

"But afterward," Hermione went on, determined to find a bit of light, "we'll all do something wild to celebrate, all right?"

"With Veritaserum or something, so that there won't be any lies," Neville added, as they had planned.

Harry actually blushed a dull red over his cheeks. "Right. Okay, then. If we make it out—"

"When, Harry," Neville and Hermione said in tandem.

"When, then," Harry conceded with a nod. "We'll do that."

* * *

Heart pounding, mind racing, Harry took a deep, lung-clearing breath before approaching the door to the "party" Neville and Hermione were staging for his benefit. Behind him, he could hear the echoes of the _actual_ Hallowe'en party. If he were honest with himself, he was not altogether happy with his own decision to set up this hopefully final confrontation for Hallowe'en.

He had rather wanted to dance with Hermione. He never regretted all that he had learnt and done in the past years since he'd been taken out of school, but he had admitted to himself and even to Sirius that he really wished he'd been able to take Hermione to the big Yule Ball he'd heard about from both Neville and Hermione. Or the Leaving Ball that had taken place their final year. Or any of the school events that had occurred since, where they had been chaperones, but had still been able to dance a bit, with other staff members.

. . . .

 _1994_

Dear Harry,

You would have been quite proud of Hermione tonight at the Yule Ball. She insisted on covering up the marks from the First Task, but her ballgown was elegant and she looked every bit a Champion. Gran was here and even she said Hermione did well. Did you know the girl could dance? I didn't, but she really can. You know Gran and Sirius made us learn for years, but I had totally forgotten to check if Hermione knew.

She says, sometimes, that the Pure-bloods tend to forget there is a bigger world outside of the one we live in, and you know? I think she's right. We kind of do.

You, though, see that world every day, don't you? Do you think sometime your godfather will let you come back to Britain, even on the sly?

Your friend,

Neville

. . . .

 _1998_

Dear Harry,

Enclosed, please find the class picture I promised you. Look, Neville and Ron got a picture somewhere, had one of our housemates enlarge it and so on, so you could be with us in this shot. See, there you are, between me and Nev, and Ron is holding the Snitch close to your head. He still says you were the best Seeker Gryffindor ever had, even if you were only here for one year.

You asked if there would be a ball, and there was, yes, after a fashion. Did you know that Nine Inch Nails is a Wizarding band? I had no idea. But they are and they played for us.

It seems odd, you know, that we still miss you here so much, even though you were only here for our first year. Your name keeps popping up in conversations; everyone talks of Lord Black and his Heir and all. But for Neville, Ron, and I? You're our friend. Always.

I'll save you a dance, just in case you ever come back.

Your friend,

Hermione

. . . .

Harry had hoped to claim that dance at some point, but she was still apparently—non-exclusively—with Neville. Still, Harry was fairly sure that Nev wouldn't mind if he, Harry, claimed a dance with Hermione . . .

 _Just not tonight_. That night was for the fulfillment of that damned prophecy and dancing had no place in it for him.

Throwing his shoulders back and banishing all thoughts of dancing with Hermione to the dungeon of his mind, he opened the door to their chosen classroom and halted, closing the door softly behind him.

"Wow. It looks amazing." A chandelier hung with many candles, suspended he knew not how. Candle-flamed jack o'lanterns perched on randomly spaced shelves about the room, and there was a sound, a combination of music and conversation, that permeated the space. Even though there were only four people present: Severus, Hermione, Neville, and Harry himself.

"Thank you," Hermione said after a moment. "Here, let me fix your cravat." He was all done up in the old manner, that evening, and appreciated Hermione's gentle touch whilst his gut was so tight and anxious. "You're sure you're ready?" she whispered for his ears alone.

"I'll be fine, Hermione. Yes, I'm ready." He caught her chin on his curled fingers and dared to drop a light kiss to the top of her head. He heard her breath catch and that small sound wrought all kinds of havoc to his Occlumency shields. "I appreciate everyone being willing to help out, tonight."

Neville approached them, the Sword of Gryffindor on one hip. "We're ready."

"Good."

"You've the wand?" Hermione checked, obviously looking about his person for the Elder Wand and even patting his dress robes a bit over his chest. He never thought of objecting. "You said you won it from Professor Dumbledore."

"And your cloak," Neville added with an expectant look.

"Ah, right. Here you go." He handed the silky, filmy thing over to the other man, who handed it to Hermione. "Be careful, all right? Remember what we talked about."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly. We'll be fine. You worry about _you_ , all right?"

"Well," he commented, trying to get things moving, as he was a bit nervous, all things being equal, "you certainly aren't dressed for battle." Neville was every inch Scion Longbottom. Formal black robes and a white cravat, not to mention that sword! And Hermione matched him beautifully, draped in black silk with white accents. "You look incredible, Hermione. Just lovely. You owe me a dance, you know."

She blushed. "We'll do all that when we're done, okay?" She shook her head and tucked a curling tendril of hair behind one ear. "Remember, everything here tonight is a lie, all right?"

"It's all a lie. Right. Thank you." He blew out a breath and felt himself wincing. "I'm really not going to like this, am I?"

"Well, mate, you did ask for an upset and our girl, here, is a classic overachiever."

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked, moving to adjust a couple of chairs at one of the round tables in the room. "I wasn't sure if he'd be joining us."

"He'll be with Sirius and Remus. We'll, er, see him after." _Right. After. Provided I live that long_. . .

She nodded. "That's good. It's been too long, really. We'll have a real reunion, eh, Nev?"

The other wizard approached the witch, holding his hand out. She caught it and he pulled her against himself and Harry watched them share silent conversations. Things he'd missed out on, over the past ten years. He'd missed so much.

Neville let her swing back out and she was once again fussing with the decorations, her wand flicking this way and that to lighten one space, add shadows elsewhere, and he could hear her tinkering with the sound of the simulated music. Neville, though, called, " _Accio_ , Ogden's!" And a fine bottle of the famous firewhisky flew across the room to clap soundly in his hand.

With a mostly-forced smile, Harry asked, "Getting started on that celebration already?"

"No, it's actually for you. Figured it might help, you know, with this."

Something in the other man's eyes just _did_ something to Harry as he reached to take the firewhisky. There was pain in the dark green eyes. Pain and compassion, but also . . . something else. Something Harry couldn't quantify just then. "Thanks, mate."

"Remember, Harry," Neville said in a low voice, "this is a play."

With an effort, Harry put a mental shield up, a boundary to cut this part of his life from what was to come, to shelter the memories of Hermione in her lovely gown, of Neville offering his compassion. "Right. As you say."

Neville turned and joined Hermione at the table she had been fussing with. Harry took a seat at the one next to his own hip and discovered there was an actual snifter of clear blown glass with a black base. He opened the Ogden's and poured about _that_ much before swirling the alcohol around and bringing it to his nose. Yes, he needed a drink, so he took one long swallow. Fire poured down his throat but it was followed by a much-needed jolt of satisfaction and courage, so that Harry was then able to look at his friends across the room.

They were dancing, their bodies swaying to the music. It was evident that they were comfortable with one another, but he had known that would be the case.

"I have to, Nev. I have to talk to him!" Hermione's voice was loudly decisive as she broke away from her partner. Harry braced himself as she crossed to him, light from the candles catching gold strands in her hair and making them almost glow. "What are you doing?" she demanded, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating energetically as she continued. "You are _supposed_ to be a chaperone!"

"It's Hallowe'en," he reminded her, going for surly as opposed to half-sauced. Ogden's was not a drink he'd built up much of a tolerance for, to be sure. "It's the anniversary of my parents' _deaths_ , Hermione. How do you think I could possibly chaperone?"

"The same way I am," she retorted. "My parents are dead too, remember? And Neville's are in St. Mungo's. None of us have perfect families, Harry Potter, but we manage to do our jobs just fine."

He cringed as he blinked up at her. He took another drink and said, "At least you have memories of your parents. You had time with them."

She bristled and flicked her hand so that her wand appeared. She whispered a soft incantation that muted the music and Harry imagined she'd done a muffling charm so that they wouldn't be overheard. "It's your fault my parents are dead! Your fault the Death Eaters showed up at my house after fourth year. After that bloody Tournament!" With a pass of her hand, she all but shouted, " _Finite_!" And there, before his eyes, a word appeared on her inner arm.

 _Mudblood_.

 _His_ blood froze in his veins as he stared at the word—angry and red even yet—that marred the skin of her arm. But then he remembered what she had said: _"Everything tonight is a lie."_ Okay, so she put this on her arm to show him for the "play". He had to believe that.

"What the hell?" he demanded, coming slowly to his feet, wetting his lips from his glass.

Neville crossed the floor and put his arm loosely over Hermione's shoulder. "The Death Eaters did that, Harry," the other man said when Hermione couldn't seem to look at Harry. "They killed her parents, made her watch, and then carved that into her arm."

"To remember them by. That's what the woman said. To remember them by." Hermione waved her hand and the word disappeared. "So don't sit here and wallow in your Ogden's," she said, lifting her head again. "It's your turn to work. Neville and I are going to dance."

At that, Neville Longbottom escorted Hermione Granger to the space between the tables and the music grew a bit louder. Harry watched them, his gut churning in horror at even the thought of Hermione having to watch her parents be murdered. He knew they'd been killed—it was horrible and he'd sent her a letter despite what Sirius had directed—but that she'd been there? She'd never told him. _It's a lie. She'd said everything tonight was a lie. A lie._

"Don't they look charming?" Severus Snape's dark, sneering voice interrupted his fraught musings.

"Shut up," Harry retorted, tearing his eyes from the couple and wondering if he'd ever really _seen_ them before. He slammed the snifter on the table, felt it break over his hands, but a quick spell set all to rights. He lunged to his feet and made a break for the door, purposefully avoiding looking at the couple still on the makeshift dance floor.

Severus followed him with a sneer. "Potter."

Harry waved a hand back at him. "Leave me alone." He led the other man on a careful course through the castle. The sounds from the true party echoed in the corridors as they approached the West Wing, where Severus had shown him a hidden passage. The older wizard acted as if this was all unrehearsed, however, swearing and muttering imprecations behind Harry's back as they maneuvered themselves to the final door that led outside.

"Potter!" Severus said, half-shouting.

Sincerely irritated, genuinely tense and fearfully ready, Harry spun about. "What? What is it you could possibly have to say to me, Snape?"

" _Petrificus Totalis_."

* * *

As soon as Harry left their "little party", Neville caught Hermione up in his arms and shuddered. He had hated seeing the other man so, well, _upset_. Hermione was no better off; her slender body was trembling against him and he heard her breath hitch as she tried to control her silent sobs.

"We did it perfectly and you were wonderful, Hermione. Just wonderful. You set it up just right, okay?"

"Did you see his eyes?"

"I did. You succeeded in doing exactly what he wanted. Now we have to finish our part, love. Come on."

They both performed a quick " _Finite Incantatem_ " on their formalwear for the evening, so that their clothing reverted to something more battle-ready. Dark trousers, dragonhide boots, and dark jumpers were the order for the night. Hermione quickly braided her hand by hand so that it fell in a thick rope over one shoulder. Then, she nodded.

"Now or outside?"

"Now," he decided, lifting his wand.

Without further discussion, he was Disillusioned and she donned Harry's Cloak of Invisibility and disappeared from view. Still, he felt her reach for his hand and the two of them spirited away from the room, following the most expeditious route to the meeting point they had already planned with Severus and Harry, days ago.

The waning moon had not yet risen, but the sky was unusually clear that night, so that all the stars shone mercilessly as he and Hermione dashed from the cover the castle provided, sketching around Hagrid's place and down to the Forbidden Forest. They kept to the any hint of shadow as much as they could, though this made for slow going. A flicker of motion caught his eye and he hissed, inadvertently.

Hermione froze and he could feel her press against himself. "What?"

"Severus has him. Looks bound and Petrified," Neville murmured. "Shite, there's more of them."

He felt her hands shake as they gripped his arms. "That was part of the plan, right?"

"I know, but it still terrifies the hell out of me."

A hard breeze kicked up just then, pulling at his hair with angry fingers as he sought to redirect his focus to their pre-assigned meeting spot near a certain clearing, where Ron, Sirius, and Remus would be waiting near the Aurors.

Overhead, a phalanx of robed figured on brooms made silent silhouettes against the deep sky. Their robes made him think they were indeed Death Eaters—or whatever label the Ministry was giving the Dark Wanker's playfellows these days. They were all associated, so they weren't really masked any longer, but they still wore their robes when out wreaking havoc. In the name of Societal Regulation, of course.

His skin was chilled as he and Hermione reached their rendezvous point. Though they were all supposed to be all but invisible, he thought he could still detect a head of shockingly red hair not too far away, just around the next tree.

Hermione did as well. He heard her breathe one syllable out into the chilly air. "Ron." As they were holding hands to keep track of one another, Neville just squeezed her fingers with his.

Then, he heard a not-stealthy sound approach and he tensed, pushing Hermione behind him before flicking his wand to one hand, his knife to the other. The sword, he kept on his hip, also Disillusioned. He could use it, but he was better with a knife and there was more of a chance of silencing a shielded enemy with it. With a _Silencio_ on the tip of his tongue, Neville prepared to do his best just in case they had been discovered.

A gruff voice rumbled out of the darkness. "Moody, here. Name yourself, stranger. Don't move; my wand is on you." Hermione moved, but Neville could only hope she was getting to safety.

 _Moody_. The name echoed in Neville's brain but he was too tense for it to find a matching association, so he let free with his Silencing spell, only to have it glance off the shield the man had clearly cast.

" _Impedimenta_!" Hermione whispered, her voice sounding from behind Moody.

The gruff-voiced man froze, giving Neville barely enough time to say, "Professors Longbottom and Granger, here, Moody. Helping Harry Potter. How'd you see us?"

Within a few heartbeats, the man shook off the jinx and coughed. "Magical eye, there, Longbottom. I worked with your parents, years ago. Fine. Constant Vigilance, lad. Who got me, there?"

"I did," Hermione whispered. "We're talking a lot."

"Good on ya, lass." Moody breathed out something that might have been a chuckle. "True. Merlin's bollocks, I hear them. Silence your feet and come along. Wands out."

As quietly as a group of people in the dark could manage, they converged with the others who were creeping up behind what was a growing group of robed people ahead. And then, a voice Neville hadn't heard in a while reached his ear.

"Hermione? Neville? It's Ron Weasley!"

 _How did he see me?_ Neville questioned silently before doing his best to shake Ron's hand whilst moving ever forward.

"Later, Ron," Hermione murmured. "Hush. Nev, renew your charm."

 _Merlin's beard!_ Neville did so, wondering if Moody-who-knew-his-parents (and that was something he definitely wanted to hear about) had canceled his Disillusionment whilst they had been speaking.

"Severus Snape, is that you?"

The harsh, aspirated challenge sounded throughout the inky forest and Neville stopped mid-stride. So did everyone that was there, apparently, to support Harry. Even whilst listening to the Potion Master's response, Neville reached for Hermione's hand again. She was still under Harry's cloak and he didn't want to lose her.

There was a bit of restlessness, he thought, amongst the Death Eaters when Severus said he had Harry. Why didn't Harry say something? Hermione was tense, as well, he could feel from the pressure of her fingers.

"Severussss."

The sibilant sound wasn't confined to the Dark Minister, who had indeed come when Severus asked for him too. Nearer to Neville himself, the Aurors and others swore softly before a sudden silence seemed to say that Moody, perhaps, had _Silencio'd_ the lot of them.

Neville didn't know what to do with the unbearable tension in his body. He ached to move, to get out there, to help Harry, to Stun Severus for putting Harry in danger, even though it was all part of the plan. Harry knew it. He had to be ready, right? Even now, wasn't he going to fight? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Many other voices certainly were.

"Harry Potter."

"Boy Who _Wished_ He Lived."

"Where's he been?"

"Last piece of this bloody puzzle."

"About time."

"Potter."

"Here he is, my lord. As promised." Severus's voice was not in the least subservient, but then he was bringing his lord a prize, wasn't he? "Moping over his mum, deep in a bottle of Ogden's." Neville wanted to shout, to say that Harry wasn't that weak, not even remotely, but he had to stay silent.

It was more than their little scene that was a lie that evening, after all.

"Ah, of courssse he wasss. And now, he can prepare himself to see them again. Release his binding, Severussss."

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," Severus said.

Neville couldn't see what was happening, but he heard Severus sigh dramatically. "Foolish man. I took it, remember?"

 _Took what?_ Neville wondered. What if Severus meant the _wand_? It was the Elder Wand! Had Severus betrayed them, after all? No, no it couldn't be. Not when he'd told them so much so far.

Then, Neville heard a welcome voice. "Tom," Harry said, his voice firm. "How are you?"

There was a flurry of motion, visible as some wands cast Lumos charms and others were aimed toward their quarry. But their hissing Minister tossed up one hand. "Away, with the wands. He is mine. Remember the prophecy. Mine!"

Then, another hissing caught in Neville's ear. Thanks to chance or Fate or he knew not what, a shaft of light caught on a long line of motion. Scales, undulating toward the robed men, Voldemort, and Harry.

"Nev!" Hermione whispered. Her hearing was quite good.

Once again, he pushed her aside, but that was mostly a reflex action before he drew the Sword of Gryffindor from the sheath at his hip. He heard Ron make some sort of sound, but Hermione must have either shut Ron's mouth or hexed him to silence as Neville took a deep breath.

He had one stroke. One.

 _Remember the basilisk. This is a snake. She's a monster, all right, but she's nowhere near so large. C'mon Longbottom . . . you can do this_. He half ran, half leapt on the tips of his Silenced toes, watching Nagini's head lift off the ground, the snake's tongue flickering out. Neville knew that meant the serpent was smelling the air . . .

He had to act immediately!

His heart pounded, his legs felt filled with energy. Neville took in one sharp breath before, without even letting that breath out, he sliced the Sword of Gryffindor and cut off the snake's head. There was barely any catch in his swing, the blade was so sharp.

 _A ha!_ he shouted in his mind, thrilled with the small victory he had achieved. He'd had the job, he'd done it, and he turned to share it with Hermione—

"Tom! _Expelliarmus!_ "

" _Diffindo!_ "

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Thoughts of his personal triumph died as all hell broke loose.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thank you for your patience, folks! More will be forthcoming next week! Remember to cast the Revealing Charm if you want a peek into the next chapter: **Aparecium!** It only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs!_


	8. Hallowe'en, Part Two

_**A/N:** This chapter will contain, I think, the last bits I'm stealing from Harry Potter's Doom, so if you're wondering . . .yeah. We'll move on very soon! As I've said in some review replies, the title is Epilogue for a reason. _

_My thanks to all who are reading this fic, adding it to their lists, and a special cup of something harmlessly intoxicating to all who review! And as always, a special bow of appreciation to **Katmom** , who tries to keep me from going crazy. :)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

 **HALLOWE'EN, PART TWO**

Unable to stand back any longer after Neville slaughtered the snake, Hermione dashed past all those who were waiting, waiting for _something_ to happen.

What the hell were they waiting _for_ , she wanted to know. Confident in her invisibility, wand at the ready, she made it to the clearing where Voldemort and his minions had started a small riot as Voldemort started whining about his snake and then—

Severus looked to be balanced, casting curses that didn't hit anyone. His face was a mask of concentration but Hermione couldn't spend time figuring him out just then, for Harry brandished the Elder Wand and cast the Cutting Curse at Voldemort.

" _Diffindo!_ " he cried and Hermione grinned within the safety of the Invisibility Cloak. Ending Voldemort with that curse was definite and sure. Harry had aimed at the other wizard's head, she believed . . .

But her grin broke when she heard Voldemort direct the Killing Curse _right at Harry_.

"Harry! No!"

She didn't think, then. She just ran, throwing hexes and curses as she went, fighting to get to her friend's side. She would have cursed Severus as well, as he was standing over Harry, but she saw him seem to actually be in a defensive posture.

" _Sectumsempra!_ " the Potions Master growled, his wand directed at Voldemort, who was trying to heal himself from Harry's attack.

Hermione had to see what happened, and she was fiercely relieved to see the sickly body of the Minister for Magic—the man who had _killed_ _her_ _parents_ , who had directed she herself be permanently scarred—erupt in a series of vicious, bloody stripes.

Hermione only watched to see that Voldemort fell before dropping to her knees next to her friend. "Harry!"

There was no response, though, and her heart thudded painfully before leaping to her throat. "Harry! Come on!" She glanced up to Severus, who was standing as if in shock, his wand still out. "Severus! Help me! Harry's not waking up!"

He knew who she was even though she was still in wrapped in the Cloak of Invisibility. "Granger. He was hit with an _Avada_ ," the older wizard murmured, not taking his eyes from the flurry of fighting going on just behind Hermione. She barely registered the cries of betrayal or the shouts of spells. "I don't think he _will_ wake up. A man can only survive that well, never, actually." Then, "Merlin's bollocks, Nott! Die, already!" And he was gone, fighting with the Aurors against the Death Eaters.

But Hermione didn't follow his progress. She bent to Harry's head to listen for a breath before putting her ear to his chest whilst feeling with her forefinger for a pulse in his neck. "No! You can't die!" Her thoughts scrambled, her mind felt like spaghetti, so she took one long breath.

 _Think, Granger. Think! ABC. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. Right._ She had taken CPR . . . before. She could do this. She had to! After her initial panic, she remembered how to tilt Harry's head back to open his airway. She knew he wasn't bleeding; the Killing Curse didn't do that. So heart. Yes. She could do that.

Compressions. "You can't die. Damn you, no. No, no!" In time with the chest compressions, she chanted the words, hoping he'd hear her, hoping he'd heed her. Hoping, hoping, as she pressed and rocked the force of her body through her arms before closing his nose, opening his mouth and pressing her lips to his. _Breathe!_ And . . . "You can't die, Harry! No, no, no!"

"Harry!"

Neville's voice penetrated her focus and interrupted her chanting and breathing. "Nev."

"Harry!"

"Ron!"

"Hermione? That you?"

Hermione ignored Ron; she didn't know him as well as she knew Neville. "Breathe for him, Nev, like this." She demonstrated quickly before resuming compressions. Neville swallowed visibly before nodding. "When I say, okay?"

"Don't die. Don't die. Don't die!" she chanted as she did her compressions. Then, "Breathe, Nev!" He did, and she resumed and they kept this up, with Ron muttering about standing guard over them.

It was rather a relief, really, allowing her to focus on this purely Muggle manner of saving a life.

"Talk to him, Nev! Give him something to focus on!"

Neville spoke. "I got the snake, Harry. With the sword. Like you said. And all the Death Eaters swarmed like, like Acromantulae. It was creepy, but good, because we knew they were getting away from you."

"Breathe!"

"And we came back to you and, and Riddle, Harry."

He paused a bit too long, so Hermione said, knowing she was sounding breathless, "Neville told me the prophecy. Breathe!"

Neville continued. "And Severus . . . Severus was standing over you. Wand out. And the Dark Wanker trying to heal his neck from where you'd hexed him, Harry. And Severus cursed him with something that made his whole body open up and bleed. Everywhere."

"Breathe!"

She was wondering if this was going to work at all. Was she—were they—having any effect? Muggle training told her that she had to keep at this until he woke up or she was relieved by a competent Healer, but—

"Ow."

She froze, staring down into slitted green eyes and a pain-lined face. "Harry?" Tears started to drip from her face and she tossed back the hood of the cape as she wiped them away. "Harry?"

Slowly, oh so slowly, his lips parted in a tiny smile and he reached up to brush her cheek with the tips of cool fingers. "Don't cry. Did we win?"

Neville sniffled and unabashedly rubbed at his eyes. "We did. Can you believe Severus killed him?"

"Harry! Mate!" Ron fell down on his knees next to them, near Harry's knees, wand out and eyes shifting focus from the concluding battle behind them to Harry. "You did it again! Survived that damned Avada!"

"Can I sit up? And Hermione, you look right odd with your head just hanging about on its own."

Together, the four of them sat on the grass in the Forbidden Forest, supporting Harry, sharing what they had seen and heard, and quietly rejoicing that it was over.

* * *

Harry knew there'd be a debrief, and he was thankful that it had waited until they got back inside Hogwarts. "Being dead—again—was not my favorite way to spend the evening," he confided to Sirius over a cup of chamomile tea. "But at least the damned prophecy has been fulfilled."

Sirius looked pale, his skin nearly parchment-hued in the light of the candles that shone in Hermione's quarters. "Fucking Prophecy," he said on a growl. "One of you had to kill the other one. Always figured _you'd_ do for _him_ , lad."

Grateful to be alive and drinking comforting tea, Harry was able to pull up a smile and nod. "You know, I've spent years with a target on my back, here. So has Hermione, and even Neville, to an extent. And she brought me back, Padfoot," he added, leaning forward and tapping Sirius on the knee with his hand. "She brought me back. I'm fine. Muggle medicine, yeah?"

The color flew back to his godfather's face and the older man leaned back in the rail-backed chair. "Yeah. Of course, you owe her a life debt, now."

Harry frowned and stared into his tea. Clear and pastel in shade, it calmed him with its aroma as well as its essential qualities. "I can feel that, you know. In my magic. It's . . . weird." He looked up at Sirius. "Why don't I feel that for you or Remus? Merlin knows you've saved my life."

" _She_ brought you back from the _dead_ , lad," his godfather said, his voice clogged as if he were going to start crying. Again. Even with victory, there was still a strange sort of sadness within him, Harry felt. An emptiness. "He actually _did_ manage to kill you, remember."

"I remember. It was . . . do you remember that place in Dover? There was that shipping company we went to before it all went to shite. I went there, Sirius, when he, when he hit me with the Avada."

Apparently, that had been one too many revelations for the night, because his godfather, for the first time in Harry's memory, fainted.

"What happened?" The chorus was echoed throughout Hermione's rooms as everyone who had accompanied Harry after the events of the night rushed from wherever they had been to all but fall down on the floor next to the unconscious Marauder.

Remus, face wrought with concern, asked, "What happened?"

"He fainted!" Harry almost laughed to see the incredulity in Remus's eyes as they shifted to a golden hue. The older man rocked back on his heels before landing with a thump on his rump on the floor. Hermione, unsurprisingly, Harry thought, felt for Sirius's pulse and nodded to herself. Neville clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry covered it with his own in a brief acknowledgment of the support offered.

Ron snorted. "Fainted? Sirius Black? Merlin's bloody broom, we can't let him forget that."

Remus smiled a little as he dropped a kiss to Sirius's forehead. "C'mon, Pads. You're ruining your image, here. Wake up." Then he asked, "What did you say, Prongslet?"

Harry felt his whole face catch fire as Hermione covered up a quick laugh and Ron just stared. He could feel Neville's silent amusement and realized, belatedly, that he still had Neville's hand pinned on his shoulder. "Erm. Right. That." He took a breath and met everyone's eyes. "I died."

"We know that," Hermione said in quiet response.

Tentatively, he met her gaze. "I know. But what happened was . . . weird. I woke up, you know, when I was . . . well, waiting to come back, right? And I was in a shipping center in Dover." He waited whilst everyone had a moment to express shock or surprise—at least no one else fainted. Remus, though, glanced quizzically at Sirius. Harry continued. "So I was there and . . . and would you believe Dumbledore was there as well?"

"The Headmaster?"

Severus Snape cleared his throat. "Did you see . . . anyone else?"

"No, Severus. Sorry." The dour fellow nodded shortly and gestured at him to continue. "Dumbledore pointed out this . . . thing to me. It looked like a wizened, creepy, well . . . baby? Thing? And Dumbledore looked as if he were going to cry or something when he told me I had had that thing in my head."

Harry had figured that revelation would also be a problem; but he was prepared for that, so he held up a hand and waited. "I knew that it would be there. It was . . . him. Voldemort." And after they all (saving Severus, Sirius, and Remus, who already knew) expressed their shock and horror, Harry told them about the horcruxes and how he'd been assiduously working to eradicate them and prevent the creation of new ones, as Tom Riddle had sought to hide the ones he had amongst certain families across Europe.

The tale was long in the telling, but Sirius awakened before too long and, after Hermione conjured a slew of fluffy pillows, the group was largely flopped all over the floor of her quarters as All Hallow's Eve became All Hallows Day.

All save Severus Snape. Harry drew him aside as soon as Sirius recovered enough of his equilibrium to let him out of his reach for a few moments.

"Severus. Thank you," he murmured quietly. "Thanks for taking care of him." What did a man say, anyway?

With an impatient flick of one hand, the Potions Master shook his head. "Yes, well. I heard the entirety of that prophecy, you know." The pain in their shared history was evident in the narrowing of the older man's dark eyes. "He killed Lily. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in killing him in return."

Harry nodded; the pain of his mother's death, the issues with Severus Snape—all had been talked to death, years ago, and they were part of a complicated history that had lost the power to wound. "Well. Yes. And now you can be hailed as the Savior of Wizarding Britain." He had to chuckle when Snape's pale face drained of all color in what Harry imagined was horror. "Yes, indeed, Severus. It's your turn to be the icon of our people. Me, I'd just as soon . . ."

"Fade into obscurity?"

"I should be so lucky."

Severus stared at him, mouth agape, before he shut it with a click of his teeth. Then he swore, a lot, under his breath and Harry could only let himself marvel at the breadth of the other man's vocabulary. After a final, rude gesture, Snape spun about and, well, billowed right out of Hermione's rooms, slamming the door behind him with overplayed disgust.

Remus made a sort of interrogatory sound as he rose slowly from the pillowed floor, dragging Sirius up with him. "Pardon me, Harry. What the hell was _that_ all about?"

"Severus reacting to the news that he is the new Savior of Wizarding Britain. A title, by the way, I am more than happy to pass along." He realized, at that moment, that he was feeling a little . . . giddy. Dizzy. Lightheaded, maybe.

"Harry?" Hermione was at his elbow within a beat of his heart and he shook his head, trying to get that sense of not knowing which way was up to go away. Then, Neville was on his other side and two of his oldest friends steered him toward a proper chair.

"No fair, you fainting, Prongslet," his godfather advised. He didn't sound jovial, but then it hadn't been that kind of night.

"Stop calling me that," he told the man for the hundredth time. He was sure it was at least the hundredth. "And I'm not going to faint."

"We won't let him," Neville assured the others, a smile in his voice.

"You're a good friend, Nev," Harry murmured. "But I don't know how successful you're going to be at that. I'm feeling . . . off."

And then he followed in his godfather's prestigious paw prints and fainted.

* * *

"Oi! Harry!" Ron stared with his entire face as Harry collapsed right between Hermione and Neville.

Neville shared shocked and then concerned looks with a pair of cinnamon brown eyes before sighing. The entire group gathered around as Hermione cast a _Mobilicorpus_ on the Man Who Bought It. "I think," he said slowly, "he's had a hard day. I can go get Poppy to cast a diagnostic, if you want?"

"No, I've got it." Hermione still had her wand out and, as soon as Harry was settled on her bed, she cast a quick series of spells above him. "I had to learn a lot of these during our fourth year, Nev," she reminded him.

Sirius and Remus, as well as Ron, ignored the symbols that flared in the air, as they were all staring intently at Harry's pale face. "I think," Sirius muttered, "that we should get Pomfrey."

Hermione, though, was in her own place and had her own bit of authority, Neville understood. "No," she insisted as she cocked her head. "He'll be fine. He needs rest. I think he might be magically exhausted. Good rest, some good food, and he'll be fine within a day or two. I'm sure Minerva will find a substitute for his classes for the rest of the week." Her smile was a bit sad, but also, Neville thought, a bit proud. "He did, after all, _die_." She cast a monitoring charm—another bit of spellwork she had picked up from Poppy—and nodded. "We should bring Minerva here."

"I could volunteer to take Harry's classes for the rest of the week," Remus said, looking hopeful.

Sirius cleared his throat. "And I'll handle the Ministry. And probably the press." He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "This is going to be a mess."

Neville felt he should add to the discussion. "Maybe we could get that one reporter in here to talk to Severus? He was the one who killed Voldemort, after all."

Sirius Black chuckled, low but long. "Oh, hell. Much as Harry's been carrying that about all his life, it seems beyond belief that he'll be allowed to stop being this supposed savior, now. Thanks to Snape. Damn. Damn, _damn_. _Snape_ , by Merlin's everlasting beard."

Hermione made shooing motions with her hand and wand. "Hush, now. Harry needs rest."

Neville nodded and led the way out of her bedroom—a room he had certainly seen before, but never had it been quite so populated. "Right. So. Want me to get him back to his room, Hermione?"

"He's welcome to stay here." She looked around at all of them, her final stop being at Ron. "You all are, really. I'm sure the castle will accommodate. I can just let Minerva know . . .?"

"We've got the guest rooms in the West Tower," Neville reminded her quietly.

"We're got the place in Hogsmead, Hermione," Sirius added. "Though I have to say I would sleep better knowing he wasn't alone."

"We'll make sure that doesn't happen." Neville caught Ron's eye. "Are you able to stay tonight or did you have something happening?"

The Quidditch player laughed quietly. "You're joking, right? No, nothing going tomorrow. I told the coach there was a family emergency and I'd be back Sunday. I didn't ever mention that I might not make it back." His light expression darkened immediately. "Bloody hell. He _died_." He dragged both hands through his bright, orange-red hair. "Never expected that to happen, to be honest, mates. I though, y'know, maybe me? Maybe Granger, here?" He smiled sheepishly at Hermione, who nodded without rancor. "Not you, Nev. You killed the bleeding basilisk! But Harry?" Blowing out a breath, he collapsed onto one of the pillows still on the floor.

Sirius stood, wand away and hands in the pockets of his dueling robes. Remus had one arm over his shoulders and the older men stared off into the unseen with the same stare his gran adopted when she thought about the night his parents were cursed by Bellatrixx Lestrange.

Which reminded him. "Was Lestrange there, tonight? Any of them, really?"

"My cousin was, yes. Got her sent off with Amelia Bones, though. I did for her husband, the bastard."

"I handled his brother," Remus assured Neville with a nod. The Lestranges had _all_ been involved in cursing the Longbottoms.

Hermione leaned against a wall and the tension that had held her up all evening seemed to let her go all at once. "Did . . . did anyone on, on our side, erm, not make it?"

"Mad-Eye. Auror Moody," Sirius added quietly. "Man was supposed to retire fifteen years ago, but he's a stubborn git, always has been."

"I'm sorry," Neville murmured. "I'm also surprised. He seemed very alert."

"Only takes one Avada," Sirius whispered harshly, scrubbing at his jaw with his knuckles as he leaned a bit into Remus. "And he'd dodged more than his fair share. I think, I think he would be happy that it ended like that, for him. Good fight, winning side."

They were silent in honor of the Auror, but then, Neville cleared his throat. "Well. I'm sure Severus has reported our success, but as for me, I could use a drink, I think."

Hermione made a shocked sound. "Neville! We're working in the morning!"

Some general laughter ensued, but quietly, as they got sorted. In the end, Neville escorted Harry's godfather and his godfather's partner to his, Neville's, quarters. Ron insisted upon staying with Neville and Hermione in her quarters, though he opted for trying to get a bit of a rest on a pile of the pillows after he'd transfigured them into a mattress. He was snoring in minutes.

"You want to whip up another mattress?" Hermione asked, pointing at the floor where some more pillows sat in a colorful heap.

Neville shook his head and looked at her half-shut bedroom door. "I don't honestly think," he whispered, "that I could sleep if I couldn't you know, hear him if something went . . . wrong."

Her face paled and her lips parted in clear horror, so he pulled her up against himself and comforted them both with an embrace that they hadn't really been able to have since before the battle. It was warm, needy, solid, reassuring. "He'll be fine," she murmured against his chest. "He will." When she sniffled and pulled her head away, though, he was surprised to see a smile in her tear-rimmed eyes. "But, I think I'm with you, Nev. I want to be near him as well."

Without another word, they gathered up the pillows and took them to her room and, after transfiguring their clothing one more time that long, long day, Neville gathered Hermione in his arms and they lay in her room on a carefully crafted bed of sorts, where they could watch Harry Potter sleep.

And if his fingers twitched, at one point, with an unspoken wish to maybe grab Harry's hand as well as Hermione's? It was no one's business but theirs.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Finally, right? Thank you for your patience! Next up, we begin what is really an epilogue in the HP 'Verse. The What Happens After Tom Riddle Buys the Farm. Or something. I will have a sneak peek for those who wish to see it - just remember to cast the Revealing Charm: **Aparecium**! It only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs!_


	9. Periodicals and a Party

**_A/N:_** _Thank you, everyone, for your patience with me. :) It's great to interact with all y'all! Butterbeer for everyone! So glad folks enjoyed Snape in the last chapter._

Extra candy from Honeydukes to long-time reader **meldz** for catching review #200! She's so kind.

Thanks, too, to **Katmom**. She helped me sign up here at FFn nine years ago. Nine. Amazing that she's still speaking to me. (Granted, we usually, you know, send email, but STILL…!)

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **PERIODICALS AND A PARTY**

"Severus Snape, Hero of Hallowe'en," Harry read aloud from the newspaper he held in both hands. He was propped upon no fewer than three pillows in bed—his own, thank Merlin, because he didn't think he could have borne being surrounded by Hermione's comfortable-yet-alluring fragrance for another day. He'd only managed it the _day after_ because he'd needed Skele-Gro (Hermione really packed a punch when she did CPR). He'd relished the scents, yes, but they'd also made him uncomfortable and the notion of inviting her to just _climb in_ with him between lessons hadn't ever been far from his mind, which had been utterly embarrassing. He still didn't know what the situation was, with her. With her and Neville. With anyone, really. She . . . was confusing him. Or perhaps he was just confused. Years of living with Sirius and Remus did _not_ prepare him for Hermione Granger.

It was Friday, the second of November. Severus Snape had not dashed right off to the _Prophet_ to proclaim his victory, but someone had notified the paper, apparently. The photograph above the fold on the front page was not the image of the Savior of Wizarding Britain, but rather a somber fellow, dressed entirely in black, with a scowl on his face. Well, to be sure, having his life as a Death Eater and Spy for the Light outed to the public on the bloody front page could not have been thrilling for a man who lived in shadows. A full pardon for everything had been issued and Snape was free to do as he wished, where he wished.

"Who issued the pardon if the Hero executed the Minister?" Harry wanted to know, flipping to the indicated "Pages 3 & 4". He read that, in true arse-covering fashion, Lucius Malfoy had cut and run from the battle on Hallowe'en and dashed back to the Ministry.

"I could see that a firm hand would be needed," he told the reporter, an Andy Smudgely. "Wizarding Britain must be seen to be stable in the eyes of the world and the name of Malfoy has always represented stability."

"You awake?" It was Ron, who was calling through the door, his voice obviously amplified.

Harry ignored the little dive of disappointment in his chest that his morning visitor wasn't _someone else_ , and he wandlessly cast an _Alohamora_ at the door to his quarters, grateful that his bedroom door was open so the way wasn't impeded by any physical barrier. "I am if you've brought breakfast!" He could feel the difference in the room with the door to the corridor open. Was that due to wards or his own sensitivity since Hallowe'en? All he knew was that Hermione wasn't there; he'd been able to feel her since . . . since they'd established a Life Debt. Merlin, he hadn't even been able to broach that topic with her, yet.

"Breakfast! Of course!" A hearty laugh preceded the welcome scents of a Full English. The tang of tomatoes—likely grown in the castle's greenhouses—was somehow especially perfect. "Man after my own heart," Ron pronounced as he entered, levitating a tray and carrying a pitcher of something. "Right, then. So, you ready to get out of bed, mate?"

" _Been_ ready, but I am under orders." Harry sighed dramatically, shifted himself on the pillows, winced, met Ron's sudden concern, and shrugged. "Yeah. So, not just yet, eh?"

"Right, then. Here," the Quidditch Keeper said, dividing up the contents of the tray betwixt the two of them. "Neville said to tell you he'd be by between lessons, and Hermione said she'd be doing the next diagnostic at lunch, so you should be prepared for that." When Harry couldn't suppress a chuckle, Ron made a beckoning motion with the hand that wasn't holding a fork. "What's that about, eh?"

Harry eyed his plate and decided to start with the tomatoes, because he just had to. So he cut off a slice and, before putting it in his mouth, asked, "What's what about?"

"They're both, I dunno, worried about you like that?" Ron chewed, swallowed, and began again whilst Harry was still enjoying his tomato. "Don't get me wrong, it's great that you're still friends and all, Harry. Did you write to them like you did to me? You know? When you left school and all?"

"I did, yeah," Harry assured him. More, to be honest, but this wasn't a contest, was it? "We kept in touch over the years. Even saw Hermione, once, when she was vacationing in France with her family." He winced, remembering what had happened to her parents. His appetite fled and he let his fork and knife clatter on his plate. "And I tried to get back for the Tournament thing in your fourth year, Ron. You've got to know that. I never would have wanted her to be hurt."

Ron nodded before taking a healthy draught of the pumpkin juice he'd brought. It was sweet, but it was easier to transport than hot tea, Harry supposed. "Course not. I'm glad you've got them."

"Couldn't have gone out there without them or without you, Ron. Meant a lot that you were willing to come back here, for that."

"Well, we started this together, didn't we?" Ron grinned brightly and sawed off a bite of sausage. "With that troll, yeah? Only right we finish it together. Come to think of it, Snape showed up for that as well, didn't he? Bit late, but yeah."

Harry let his head drop to the fluffy pillow behind him. "Yeah, he was. Right glad he was with us again. Riddle was a lot worse than that troll."

"At least your wand didn't go in his nose!"

At that, they both laughed a little and Harry resumed eating his breakfast, grateful for the uncomplicated friendship he had with Ron. It wasn't as close as the ties he had with Hermione or Neville, but it was there and it meant a lot. "So, you're off again on Sunday?"

"I am, yeah. Want to go to Hogsmeade before that? You, me, Neville, and Hermione?"

"They'd mentioned that, yeah," Harry admitted. "I think I'll be able to manage that much. Poppy can't keep me cooped up here forever."

"Beats the infirmary, mate. Trust me. Saw more of that place than I ever wanted. Quidditch is brutal."

* * *

"Sure you don't want to come, Severus?" Harry teased the new Savior of Wizarding Britain just before the evening meal on Saturday. He was relieved to have missed the big do that Hogwarts had thrown for Severus and everyone else. He'd had enough of the press whilst he and his godfather had hunted horcruxes and fought Riddle's minions for the past few years. "You'd be welcome to join us." He wasn't sure how welcome, precisely, but Harry was sure that none of the "firstie crowd" that was going to Hogsmeade that evening would mind.

"I'm sure your invitation," Severus drawled, "comes from a most . . . sincere . . . place. But no. Since _some_ professors have asked to be off the rota for the evening, others must provide the needed authority for the Head Girl and Boy, watch over opportunistic . . . Ravenclaws . . . and overeager lions." The sneer on the older man's face was mostly sincere. Harry had learnt that Severus Snape was not a fan of most of the peripheral duties of being a boarding school professor. The man enjoyed teaching N.E.W.T. level potions and even Defense when called upon, but that was only a small part of his job.

Which made Harry ask, "What do you think you might be doing next, then?"

The older wizard smiled thinly. "Hiding."

Just then, an owl flew in with a regal air through the charmed windows. It was quite dark, with glowing golden eyes that seemed to stare right at Severus Snape as it angled its body to fly directly to him. Landing on the Head Table, the owl imperiously extended its leg and made a chattering sound.

"Shite," Severus muttered.

Harry offered the owl something that looked like something his Hedwig would like from the starter plate that occupied space on the table. "What is it? Someone else from _The Daily Prophet_?"

Severus looked ill as his hands twitched noticably. " _Witch Weekly_. They want an interview."

It took just about everything Harry had not to break out in a loud guffaw. Even suppressing it had his torso aching with the pressure he put on the new bone growth in his ribs. He merely clapped Severus on one shoulder and turned to find Hermione, Neville, and Ron.

Minerva was shaking hands with Ron just as Harry reached the small group. "Good to see you, Mister Weasley. I'm sure your family will be terribly proud that you were here."

Ron nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm proud to have been able to fight with the Light. My brothers are going to be so jealous."

Harry had to smile a little at that. He had picked up hints, over the years, of Ron's envy of his elder brothers. Now, he had something else to add to his list of accomplishments. "Just in case being Keeper for the Pride wasn't enough?" he asked as he accepted the silently offered place between Neville and Hermione. Hermione took his hand briefly in her own before her fingers pressed his wrist a bit and he had to wonder if she were checking his vital signs or something.

"You have a point, mate," Ron said, reclaiming his hand and rolling up on the balls of his feet. He looked uncomfortable. "So! Are we leaving or what?"

Harry glanced at Minerva, who nodded and said, "Of course. Enjoy the evening. Professors, I expect you back before midnight."

"Yes, ma'am," they all said in chorus before turning and leaving the Great Hall.

On the way, Ron had to sign three autographs for Gryffindors, which had to have made his night.

They decided to walk down to Hogsmeade, as Harry himself was tired of being confined and inactive. "Air. I get to breathe real air."

"Yes, and I can't tell you how glad I am that you can," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone that carried no overtones of Life Debt or anything. "So!" she went on in a clear effort not to dwell on that, "Anyone up for firewhisky tonight?"

Neville laughed. "What? Hermione!"

"Why not? I said we should do something wild when it was over. And Harry's _alive_. Voldemort's _dead_. Ron's _here_ with us for his last night. There has got to be a changeover in the Ministry and I won't have to worry about that Magical Evaluation thing, right? Firewhisky seems reasonable and we don't have lessons in the morning."

Harry cleared his throat and subconsciously felt for his wand. "Did you read the _Prophet_ this morning, Hermione? Malfoy is still on board."

She stumbled on the path. Neville caught her. "Okay," she whispered, standing and blowing out heavy breaths. "Okay. Well. He's not Minister, is he?"

"No!" Neville said. "And we'll make sure he never is, right?"

Ron snorted. "What, gonna send Snape in for him as well?"

Harry was a bit shocked when he felt disconcerted at that; but then, he smiled to himself, there in the gloaming. Sirius had sheltered him, yes, but he and Remus had discussed his fate, the prophetic doom that hung over his head, and for years Harry had shouldered the expectation of being The Chosen One. The One Who Would End Voldemort. Which meant, then, that he had the responsibility to fix so many other things, didn't it? All the deaths, the terror, all of that, he had felt, reflected back on him.

Not anymore. Now, he need feel no further push to find the Bad Guys, Save the Wizarding World . . . none of that. He had met that fate, fulfilled the prophecy, and he could now live his life, secure in the knowledge that no one would be looking to him to right the wrongs of the world any longer.

Severus Snape was more than welcome to take up that mantle, thanks so much.

"Severus and Lucius were friends, once," Harry said after a moment or five. "Don't know if he'd have any influence any longer."

"Ron! Come on. I wanted to talk to you about the Ministry. Your brother Percy still works there, right?"

Harry watched Hermione monopolize Ron, pulling him along by the elbow. Nudging Neville, he asked, "You have any idea what she's on about?"

Neville coughed, a short, surprised sound. "Erm. No? Not really?"

Harry edged a bit closer to him as they continued to follow Hermione and Ron. He put a hand on the other man's shoulder, to foster a sense of confidentiality and because he was a bit unsettled. "Wait, she is a protected member of your House. You're dating, right? So she wouldn't be, well, you know. _With_ Ron?"

Neville only smiled and shook head before swinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. Felt comfortable, really. Sirius was a very tactile sort of man, and Harry had grown to appreciate that quality. Having Neville act in this way was . . . normal, really. "I've told you and I'm pretty sure _she's_ told you that yes, we're dating but we're not exclusive. That being said, I'd say _no_ , she's not thinking of anything with Ron. The only other man she's ever mentioned, actually, is _you_ , Harry."

Harry faltered at that. "Sorry?"

Neville actually laughed a little. "Don't be. She's actually quite insightful, you know."

Staring, Harry couldn't even make his feet move as he stood entirely still. "But, wait."

"Waiting is an excellent notion, actually," Neville advised with a long, steady gaze before resuming their walk together. "So, in answer to your curiosity about Ron, up there, Hermione is likely wondering if Percy has any insight into what might happen within the Ministry now. The Magical Evaluation thing has got to go, I'd wager, but I don't know how many, erm, ardent blood purists are still in positions of authority, there."

"Shite." His insides felt like he'd just been Portkeyed over the Atlantic. The strangely right feeling of having Neville's arm around his shoulders—just mates, right?—combined with the fluttered-stomach feeling of Hermione having "mentioned" him in the midst of her relationship with Neville to make him, Harry, all unsettled and unsteady on his pins.

"Got it in one."

"Is it safe for her, tonight? There'll be a lot of angry Death Eaters out to avenge Riddle's death."

"They won't be coming after you. Maybe _me_ ," Neville allowed, sounding thoughtful. Then, he clapped Harry's shoulder and the men separated as they neared the shops and cottages of the village. "They won't be after her, though. She was in your cloak, remember, and no one saw her until the battle was mostly over."

"Right. Still, let's catch up, yeah?"

"Do you think he'd be willing to come to Hogwarts to talk with me?" Hermione was asking Ron as they reached a circle of lamplight.

"Sure, Hermione. I'll owl him, yeah?"

"Thanks so much!"

Harry darted ahead of them to open the door for Hermione. He met her eyes as she slid by him and she smiled as if she knew a secret or something. The look made him remember what Neville had so recently, and plainly, said to him and he felt quite nervous.

But he had to play it off. He liked the woman, he wanted to . . . explore that, certainly, and if he more or less had the unspoken permission…?

No, he'd want it to be explicit. It had to be. His relationship with the pair of them, individually and together, demanded that kind of respect.

So. _Not going to dwell on that tonight. Tonight is about four kids who got separated a long time ago and have reunited and are, according to Hermione, going to go a little wild._

 _Wild. Hermione. Hmmm…_

"Madam Rosmerta!" Hermione called over the subdued hum of the pub on a Saturday evening. "A bottle of Ogden's Finest, please!"

The aging-but-still-attractive owner of The Three Broomsticks smiled broadly. "Professor Granger. I had heard a rumor that you were on your way. And Ron Weasley! Pride of Portree's Keeper!" She grinned broadly at Ron, who tossed his head. Harry exchanged looks with Neville, who kept a lower profile as they were met at closer quarters. "I've got a table for you back there, you lot, or Room Three is available if you just wanted someplace away from the rest of 'em."

Hermione cocked her chin up. "The table is fine for now, Madam Rosmerta, and thank you."

"We've got battered haddock and chips, tonight, Professor."

"Excellent."

"Ale?" Neville asked, his expression pleasant.

"Surely, Professor Longbottom."

"Perfect," Hermione declared, turning to lead the way to the round table at the rear of the pub. "Come on!"

Harry just smiled at the innkeeper, who nodded with a smile of her own right back at him. "Good to see you, Professor Potter. A little owl told me that you were a bit . . . under the weather."

With a grin, Harry acknowledged the understatement. "Quite. Thank you for making such accommodations for us."

"My pleasure, Professor."

The pub was lined in shadows, accented with warm golden lamplight and faintly brighter candlelight that reflected from brass and silver wall sconces. Taking a deep breath to settle himself after the thoughts of the evening so far, he enjoyed the faint smells of fried fish and chips, sweet pumpkin juice, leather, and some pipe smoke. He concentrated on getting to a chair, watching as Ron held a chair for Hermione, and smiling as Hermione—eyes alight with anticipation—took the bottle of Ogden's from Madam Rosmerta.

It wasn't long before dinner was served to their small table. "I can't believe how normal this is," Harry remarked quietly. "Dinner with friends in a pub." He brandished a chip. "To friends."

"To friends," they echoed before each taking a bite from a chip of their own.

They discussed Ron's Quidditch schedule, the changes in the Hogwarts curriculum from what Ron remembered, how Ginny was doing with the Holyhead Harpies, and the weather. They did not discuss the battle of a few nights before, by common agreement.

"Enough talk," Ron stated when his plate was empty for the second time. "Hermione, was this your idea?" he asked, nodding at the Ogden's.

She rolled her eyes. "In a moment of weakness, yes."

Harry distributed smallish snifters around and watched Hermione pour rather too much in each. "Do this often?" he asked, teasing.

"Never," she admitted freely. Her gaze went from his to meet Neville's. "Complaints, Longbottom?"

"Not a one, Granger."

"Excellent." With barely a pause, Hermione lifted her drink and offered a salute to Harry. "To Harry, who met his fate and can now, I hope, stay in England and be happy."

"Hear, hear!" the others called and they all tossed back healthy swallows of the firewhisky.

Ron laughed when they all protested the heat the beverage brought them. "Lightweight academics!" He poured himself some more whilst they were still getting their breath back and tossed it down as well. "Y'see, it's about practice and tolerance."

"Which you acquired where?" Hermione wondered seeming to marvel.

"The team! I've learnt ever so much," Ron went on, pouring even more into his glass and drinking. He puffed out a breath and then made appreciative noises. "Drinking games, don't you know? Easier to learn than chess," he declared, tapping the side of his nose with a forefinger.

This was a far easier thing to dwell upon than the Ministry, than his feelings for Hermione, than the strange aftermath of the way he'd lost a duel but met his fate anyway. Harry leant back in his chair and refused to have another drink. "But can you play chess whilst tossing back firewhisky as if it were water?" Neville snorted, but Harry saw that he'd switched to the ale he'd ordered upon entering the pub. Hermione shook her head and poured herself another shot of Ogden's. "C'mon, Ron. Hermione promised we'd do something wild."

"Well," Ron allowed, his eyes bright. "I might just have a broom somewhere . . ."

"Excellent! I haven't flown in ages." Harry got to his feet. "We can do that. C'mon."

Neville, though, wasn't on his feet yet. "Hermione doesn't fly. Ron, you know that."

"Cor, still? Herms, come on!"

Harry felt a bit bereft when Hermione smiled a little and shook her head. No longer was that intriguing light in her eye; she seemed disappointed and he hated that.

"You go on, Ron. Flying's not my thing but you should go, the pair of you. You haven't been flying together for ten years, right?"

Ron nodded and produced a tiny broom from a pocket. "Just about, yeah. Nev? You comin'?"

"Nah, I'll stay and keep Hermione company. You go on. Have fun!"

"Have fun!" Hermione echoed.

Harry checked her eyes again and saw her amused resignation. He glanced at Neville's and saw something similar. "You sure?" He didn't even know which of them he was asking.

"Yes," they said in tandem, then they laughed a little and Harry nodded. Though he was disappointed, he was also looking forward to flying on a professional Quidditch broom in a sky free from Death Eaters.

Ron pointed out the features of his new Nimbus Millennial Ultra model and demonstrate it a bit in the skies over Hogsmeade. Harry wished he'd thought to bring his own, but it never even occurred to him to collect it from Sirius. Defense professors didn't fly or play Quidditch and he hadn't included aerial combat as part of his curriculum.

Yet.

Then, he got to the air and it was amazing. Liberating. Fulfilling. He was laughing when he directed the broom back to Ron, who was waiting near the train station, leaning against a wall. "That was amazing!"

"I know! Best broom in the sky, right now."

Harry joined him against the wall and together they studied what they could see of the village. "That was great. Thanks, Ron."

"Welcome, Harry. So, I gotta know. Did you and Hermione ever, you know . . .?"

"What?"

"Come on, mate. I've been watching you. You like her. Merlin, I feel like we're if fourth year, but you weren't here, then, were you? Never got to have this kind of talk."

Harry felt his skin redden, and hoped that the night sky would conceal it. "How would we ever? I mean, I wasn't even here, Ron. You?"

"Me and Herms? Nah. She and Nev have always been tight, though. He's taken good care of her." He nodded and shrunk his broom. "So really? I thought she spent time with you one summer?"

"Oh, that. Well, yeah. I told you that I saw her on my birthday once. But we weren't, you know, a couple or anything. Kinda young, yeah?"

Ron shrugged. "The way my brothers tell it, no one's too young. A man's just gotta be careful. So," he went on, a gleam in his eye visible even with only the village lights to clarify it, "be careful, yeah?"

"Ron, there's . . ."

"Give over, Harry. There _is_. With one of 'em, anyway." Rusty red brows wriggled playfully. "C'mon. I'm gonna Floo to the Burrow to spend the night at Mum and Dad's. Let's get back to the the Broomsticks, and I can do all the handshaking and hugging and all that." He laughed a little and Harry joined him.

When they reached the inn, he half-expected that Neville and Hermione would have gone back to Hogwarts without him and he wouldn't have blamed them if they had. He and Ron had effectively broken up the planned party early. But they were there and the Ogden's bottle was depleted rather more than it had been.

That explained the slightly glassy gazes and lazy smiles, he supposed, as they all did the "handshaking and hugging" Ron had predicted.

On the walk back to the castle, Harry found himself sandwiched between Neville and Hermione. They stumbled a bit on the walk, and by and by they all had their arms around each other as he supported them and they held on to him.

"You're killing me, here, guys," he eventually remarked. "Sleepy drunks, the pair of you."

"Not drunk," Hermione said, her voice careful. "Just . . . relaxed."

Neville's arm squeezed Harry a bit more tightly for a moment. "Yep. Relaxed. That's it."

"How was the flight, Harry?"

He smiled down into Hermione's upturned face, and he focused on her eyes and how wide and interested they were, rather than the lips that seemed to part in invitation. _Really? She mentioned me with Neville when they were together? Really?_ Pushing that aside again, he answered her. "Perfect, actually. Glad Ron brought his broom. You really don't fly?"

"I really don't." There was something in her tone that, relaxed or not, told him not to push it, so he didn't.

He turned to his other companion. "What about you, Nev?"

"Oh, I can fly, o'course," the other man said, his words slow. "But I don't often. I have a broom, though, if you want to go flying."

They talked a bit about that, as they neared the school but, before they opened the gates, Hermione disentangled herself from him. "Sorry! I totally forgot! I have to talk to Minerva. See you guys in the morning!"

And before he or Neville could say anything, she'd dashed through the gate and was half-running, half-stumbling up the last part of the path to the main entrance.

Neville was shaking his head. "That girl. Most stubborn person I've ever met." He reclaimed his arm as well and inhaled sharply through his nose before sighing. "Look, you okay?"

For some reason, Harry was once again unsettled. "I think so, yeah. Is she?"

"Oh, she's fine." Neville smiled and scrubbed his knuckles along his jaw, all whilst keeping his eyes on Harry's own. "Tonight didn't go as she'd planned, is all. Not entirely. So she's trying to fix that."

"Is that why she was talking to Ron about the Ministry?"

With a laugh, Neville said no, it wasn't. "You are as clueless as I am, which I find a bit odd, seeing as how you were raised by Lord Black."

Trepidation stiffened Harry's spine. "What are you talking about?"

Neville half-turned away, his hands in his pockets. "Gryffindors . . . House of the Brave," he muttered. "Fine. So. Harry?"

"What, Nev? I swear to Merlin, if either you or Hermione would just come out and be blunt, I'd find it all much easier to go on."

"Go on with what?"

"Her! You!" Frustrated, confused, and increasingly uncomfortable below the skin, he tossed up his hands. "Both of you!"

"Harry. Stop." Neville drew a bit nearer, so Harry quite flinging his arms about like a madman. "Thank you. I know you like her. That's okay. Have I ever seemed not to be okay with that?"

Embarrassed, Harry shook his head. "No, but I thought that was the whole Chosen One thing or whatever, and I didn't want to . . . shite."

"No, but okay. So. You like her. But. Have you ever considered _liking_ a man?"

* * *

 _A/N: The **Witch Weekly** bit was inspired by **JuliSt**. I will definitely be "showing" a bit of that in a future chapter. Heh. _

_And so I've left you on a cliff. I will endeavor to get you off that cliff by week's end. I hope. Really._


	10. Between Men & A Woman

_**A/N** : A note: Please remember that this is a triad fic. The story summary indicates that "Slash happens" and everything. So, if you're still reading and slash is a problem for you . . . um . . . stop. _

_Got it? Good. Okay. So, to get y'all off that cliff I left you on… I'm really sorry it took me so long to get back to this. Family vacation that left me absolutely enervated. Not in the Rowling way, either. Forgive any lack of sneak peeks on this chapter, please! I'll try to write ahead in future. No more vacations are planned for a bit. ;-)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

 **BETWEEN MEN & A WOMAN**

Neville felt his heart sort of freeze as if it had been hexed for a few moments after he had been goaded—silently, from within—to ask Harry if he had ever liked _men_.

It was a question Neville had only recently had cause to ask himself, but he reckoned Harry would have examined his own preferences long ago, if only because he was raised by two men in a committed relationship.

Harry stared at him, dragging his hands through his nearly shoulder-length hair. "It's always been Hermione," he whispered. "But . . ."

Neville felt an ache start to build in his chest, but he persisted. "Honestly, Harry. I would have thought you'd have gone there, with Sirius and all."

With a snort, Harry seemed to relax a bit, stepping closer to Neville and the gate to Hogwarts. "I don't know a whole lot about people my own age, I admit, but how many kids think about their parents having sex?" Neville couldn't control his wince and Harry rested a hand on his arm. "Sorry, Nev. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay. I get it." Harry hadn't dropped his hand, so Neville decided to cover it with his own as he kept after this conversation. "Only Hermione?"

"Well, yeah." An owl winged overhead, its passage audible as it wasn't too far above them, and Harry looked up to follow its flight. Neville smiled a little; he couldn't help it. Hermione had put the idea in his head—the idea about being interested in Harry—and it seemed as if he always _had_ been. He couldn't take his eyes off of him. The way the other man's eyes tracked the bird, the subtle shifts of the lines of his face, the curiosity and appreciation, all of that was there in those moments of silent watching. "She was," Harry continued, slowly bringing his focus back to Neville's face, "the only one, you know? Since that birthday in France, anyway. Like you said, she wasn't twelve any longer at that point and even though I didn't go, I don't know, _perving_? Perving over her as a fourteen-year-old—not since I was about that age, anyway—still, her words and letters and what she had to suffer with because of me—" His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened and, somehow, Harry was holding his hand, fingers laced in a silent bid, Neville supposed, for comfort. "So, yeah."

Neville focused on their joined hands. "So, my letters didn't inspire such heroic devotion, eh?" he asked with a purposeful laugh. He had to know, but he also had to be friends and that _friendship_ he and Harry had—both through owl post and what had built since he'd come back a couple of months ago—was the most important thing.

"That's not what I meant at all. I was just trying to answer your question." Harry's voice dropped and slowed. "But about liking a man? If that man was you? I could, yeah, consider it."

Neville's smile sort of exploded on his face; he could feel it as he grinned and felt the ache and cold within his chest leave him without a trace left behind. "You could, eh?"

Harry had a grin of his own when he looked up once more. "I could." Even in the darkness, a challenge gleamed in the famous emerald green eyes as Harry stepped further into Neville's space. Their hands were still joined, their faces not quite on the same level, but close as Harry seemed to study him from the closer proximity. "I really could."

Nerves thrumming, Neville decided that being a Gryffindor was working for him so far, so he kept with it. "Good," he murmured, bringing his free hand to Harry's shoulder and urging him just that half-step closer. Harry's eyelids dropped and his lips parted, which sent a jolt of sheer excitement through Neville's body. Oh, he adored Hermione, absolutely. She did this to him as well. Smiling, he sent her a mental salute. She had been right on the Galleon regarding his inner inclinations.

He kept his eyes open as he brushed Harry's lips with his own. Harry didn't, though. He closed his eyes and welcome the kiss with a startled sort of sound that made Neville hold quite still for a second. But then, Harry reached for him as well, tentatively dragging his hand up Neville's arm until he cupped the back of Neville's neck.

How long did the kiss last? Neville had no idea. The owl was out of sight when he lifted his head and Harry's eyes were still closed. "Yeah," Harry whispered. "I'm considering it."

Chuckling with relief as well as a sort of confirmed delight racing under his skin, Neville rested his forehead against Harry's. "Good. Me, as well."

"But, but what about Hermione?" Harry stiffened and moved back a pace, touching the gate with his bare hand.

The gate swung open—it was magically keyed to open to Hogwarts staff—and Harry half-stumbled sideways. Neville passed through, the wards of the school reaching out to him and touching him in a familiar way; he'd been on staff long enough for this to be a familiar ritual. "Hermione? Well, it was her idea, actually."

"Oh. But what about the two of you?"

"Not exclusive, remember. And . . ." Neville turned to briefly run a hand over Harry's head, wanting to hold him for a moment, to feel him again for just one more kiss, but— "And I think we should tell her."

"Tell her what? That we kissed? Do you guys, well, do that?"

Laughing, Neville asked, "What kiss? Yes, Harry, yes we do."

Harry pushed out an exasperated breath. "If you aren't exclusive, do you keep one another, what, updated?"

"Dunno; never happened before. But it's only fair. That is, if . . . if you want to?"

"Kiss you again? Uh, yeah." Harry shoved him with a shoulder as they strode slowly up to the main entrance. "But would you also, erm, be seeing her? I don't know . . . if I'm okay with not being exclusive. And," he blurted out, as if the words sort of exploded from him, "I was just thinking about kissing Hermione earlier and I don't know that that has entirely gone away." Agitation was etched into this features, perceptible even in the clear darkness.

They had reached the doors and Neville stopped, turning to catch Harry by the shoulders. "Hasn't gone away for me, either, mate. So . . . let's catch Hermione and . . . talk. Yeah?"

Nodding, Harry blew out a breath. "Yeah. Because that's not scary at all."

"Says the Chosen One."

"Says Basilisk's Bane."

And just like that, the tension that had been weaving a tangible web between them since just before the kiss unraveled, leaving Neville quite relieved to be able to walk into Hogwarts with no one the wiser.

* * *

"What is the matter with you?" Hermione made a face at Neville, smiled at Harry, and pulled them toward the wall behind the head table as soon as Minerva dismissed students after breakfast on Sunday morning. "You're both . . . did a student prank you? With an itching hex or something in your socks?"

Their seats were actually on the arm of the table to the left of the Headmistress, not facing the students head-on, but at an angle. So the wall behind them was solid and provided no possible way for anyone to spy on them. Still, Neville wasn't surprised when Hermione tossed up a wandless _Muffliato_. "The pair of you are acting like, like third years wanting to ask someone to Hogsmeade for the first time." Her own words apparently lit a candle in her brain, though. "Cor! You've gone and _done_ it, haven't you?" Cinnamon eyes shining, a grin as wide as a river on her face, Hermione reached for each man's hand, wiggling her brows as she clearly saw that Harry's face was practically on fire. Then, she gave Neville a look. "You all right?"

"Pardon?" Neville checked her face for clues, found none, and then glanced at Harry, who was still blushing fit to light a room.

"You know I was hoping you two would, erm, _that_?" They were surrounded in their own sound-protected bubble, and he could only focus, for that moment, on her face, her bright happiness, the buoyant air that seemed to even infuse the curls of her hair. "Right? Harry?"

Neville darted a glance about the Hall, seeing how a few people were eyeing them. Miss Chambers looked concerned and he wondered if she were worried about Professor Granger's safety or something. Septima had actually turned her entire body to study them, which made Neville nervous. Would she make an arithmantic matrix about them?

Harry blew out a breath and nodded with a surety of purpose that brought a grin to Neville's face. Hermione's smile grew wider and she leaned in and hugged both of them. Neville clung to her a bit, reassuring himself that yes, he still felt as much for her now as he had before he'd kissed Harry.

She kissed his cheek lightly before pulling away. "Right, then! I'm so happy for you, truly," she gushed, face a bit pink for reasons that Neville didn't wish to speculate upon. "So," she went on, her face easing into a serious aspect as she focused entirely on Harry, "I want to know something."

The other man's blush had faded somewhat as Hermione pressed his hand between both of her own. "What, Hermione?"

"Why did you want that scene we enacted? I never got the chance to ask you how it worked."

Harry bit his lip for a moment and glanced about. "Right. You should know. Right. Can we, like, go to a room or something?"

"I've got a meeting with the Muggle-borns this morning in my classroom," Hermione said. "We can go there, though, if you want. The meeting isn't for an hour," she added after checking her watch.

Feeling Septima's eyes on them the whole way out, Neville led the trio from the Great Hall and down the myriad corridors and such to Hermione's classroom. Passing students acknowledged them with smiles and the occasional wave, but the three professors were largely ignored, which was just as well. Neville thought Harry looked tense.

Once inside the room, Hermione shut the door and warded it with a Colloportus and her favorite Muffliato charms. With a wave of her arm, she invited the men to sit whilst she perched on the edge of her desk at the front of the room.

Harry claimed one student desk whilst Neville claimed the one next to him so that the three of them were able to talk without a lot of gawking about to maintain eye contact. _How do we do this?_ he wondered as Hermione adjust the faded cuffs at her wrists and as Harry fidgeted in his seat. _Hermione is thinking . . . of couples, and I'm thinking more. I am. Haven't seen a triad since the Weasley twins married Angelina Johnson, so . . ._

 _Maybe I should ask for advice? From Fred and George? Merlin, no . . ._

His musings were interrupted by Harry's uncomfortable throat-clearing. "Right. So. Hallowe'en wasn't the first time I've dueled Tom Riddle," he began, his eyes fixed on his folded hands on the desk where he sat. "He's a master Legilimens and, though I'm proficient with Occlumency, I am not strong enough to keep him out indefinitely. Severus is, but he had to play his role as well, so we came up with the idea that he would 'capture' me to present to his master." He looked up and watched Hermione as he continued. "If I acted drunk, or at least a bit incapacitated, jealous and unprepared, the idea of Severus capturing me when so many others in Riddle's, well, entourage?, had not been able to do so over the years would be more believable. Which worked, I guess." He smiled a bit and looked—well, Neville didn't know how he looked, precisely. Embarrassed? Thankful? Shy? All of the above? "I really appreciated the advance notice that everything that night was a lie, Hermione. I don't know how I could have managed to uphold even rudimentary mental shields if, if that," he said, his voice thickening as he indicated her left arm with a wave of a hand, "if that had been real."

Hermione's gasp launched Neville to his feet; the need to support her right then was uppermost in his thoughts. Harry followed suit and the wizards met in front of Hermione, each taking one arm, though Harry was staring at her sleeve rather than her face.

Neville could only see her tear-filled eyes, and he couldn't help but remember.

 _"_ _Mister Longbottom! Neville!" The silvery wisp of a feline Patronus had flown into Neville's suite of rooms at Longbottom Manor. "Miss Granger's been attacked in her home. Please come to St. Mungo's as soon as may be."_

 _Of course, Neville had heeded the call of his Head of House and had dashed down the corridor to the suite of rooms where his grandmother slept. Within minutes, they were dressed and at St. Mungo's in London, and Gran had certainly made sure they were in Hermione Granger's room without delay._

 _Hermione hadn't even noticed, though. The room was private, as Professor McGonagall had seen to it that she was undisturbed. His Head of House was seated next to the hospital bed, distraught as she endeavored to get a response from an awake but otherwise unaware patient. Hermione was lying still on the bed, eyes open but unseeing, tears sliding ceaselessly down her pale cheeks._

 _One of her arms lay above the bedclothes, bandaged._

 _"_ _What happened, Minerva?" Gran had whispered, going around the foot of the bed to reach McGonagall's side._

 _"_ _It was out of a nightmare," McGonagall said, her voice rasping. "Death Eaters, You-Know-Who, Lestrange . . .at Miss Granger's house. Her parents . . . they, the Death Eaters, took their time . . ."_

 _Neville felt his heart stop for a momenta she grabbed Hermione's free hand. He'd only just turned sixteen, but he knew he loved the girl and he would do anything for her. "Hermione? It's Nev." He squeezed her hand, oh so gently. "I'm so sorry. I'm here and I won't go away, all right? I'll keep you safe, now."_

 _"_ _Too late," she muttered, the tears still dripping from her face to the pillow under he head, making tiny splashes, the fabric was so saturated at the point of contact. "Nev . . . they're dead. Mum and Dad." She turned her head to look at him, then, and he saw the endless emptiness in her eyes, the same expression he knew he exhibited when he had had a particularly difficult visit with his parents, right there in St. Mungo's. "They said it was to punish me . . . for being a Mudblood." With a feeble effort, she lifted her arm._

 _Following the motion, he saw that his professor and grandmother were listening likewise. Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat. "Bellatrix . . . carved the word into her arm."_

 _Neville swore, then, under his breath, with words his grandmother would normally have chastised him mightily for. That night though, she merely nodded, agreeing with him._

 _Neville never wanted to see his Hermione look so lost, ever again, and he made plans to make sure she would be protected for the rest of her life._

That morning in her classroom at Hogwarts, Neville saw the echoes of that horrible night in Hermione's eyes and he nodded, lifting one of her hands to his lips and pressing a reassuring kiss to her fingers. _Tell him_ , he mouthed to her, the words silent but clear for all that.

She inhaled raggedly and, with a determined tilt to her chin, unbuttoned the cuff and sleeve on her left arm. "I said everything that night was a lie, Harry. That morning, remember?"

Harry's fingers trembled as he followed the path of Hermione's sleeve up her arm. He froze when the "d" in "Mudblood" became visible. His breath caught in his throat as he managed to rasp, "Hermione . . ." Sorrow, shock, and hurt flared in the bright green gaze as Harry shifted his focus to Neville and then back to Hermione once more. "But you, you said—"

Hermione nodded far too rapidly before moving to take both of Harry's hands in her own. "I know. That morning I said everything that night would be a lie. And then, that night, I lied—"

"We lied," Neville asserted, coming to stand so that he could wrap one arm around her shoulders and one around Harry's. "We lied, Harry. So that you would be upset, as you _specifically_ asked for, but also so that you could tell yourself it wasn't true, what you saw."

Hermione leaned a bit further forward. "It's what you wanted. And it worked, right?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, eyes on the hands that held his own. "It worked. He plowed through my mind, found what you said, mocked me just as Severus and I had planned. Underestimated me . . ." Lifting his head up, he met Hermione's eyes again. "And then he killed me."

"We never meant for that to happen," she whispered back, face pinched in distress.

"And you never meant for me to find out about your arm, either?"

"Not, not right way," she admitted quietly.

Neville kept his arms around the both of them, but also kept his silence. This was about their relationship; a relationship that he was more and more sure he wanted with each minute that went by. What happened to Hermione whilst Harry had been kept away had affected her entire life, though, and the pair of them needed to work it out. He knew this, because he and Hermione had had to talk things over almost to death, once upon a time. Hermione was, as everyone knew, a great talker.

"Damn it, Hermione!" Harry's words were off-putting, perhaps, but Neville was encouraged to note that neither let go of the other. "How can I, it was all my—"

"Harry, no."

"Yes! How can you even stand to look at me?"

" _You_ didn't do this to my arm. _You_ didn't kill my parents," she murmured. "You're my friend, Harry. You always have been. I told you, when you save a girl from a troll, it makes an impact for life."

Relieved to see the small smile on her face, Neville leant in to drop a kiss to her temple. Harry, after a moment's hesitation that Neville entirely understood, did likewise, on her other temple. "Good," he whispered against her cheek.

Neville saw the other man swallow, watched a blush suffuse his face, moving up from his throat, and he silently urged him on, thinking, _Kiss her, Harry! C'mon, mate!_

As if he heard the wordless encouragement, Harry nudged Hermione's head a bit, sliding his own lips towards hers. Neville heard nothing in the room at that moment save the hopeful pounding of his own heart. No one seemed to even be breathing as he leant in even further, still encompassing the other two in his arms, somehow.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "I thought—"

"Didn't you—?"

"It's okay," Neville murmured at the same time.

With a gasp, Hermione jerked away from them, moving quickly around to the other side of her professorial desk, cheeks flaming and eyes wide. "Sorry."

Harry slid out from under Neville's arm and Neville sighed. Loudly. "Well, that went all pear-shaped."

"Neville?"

"Hermione, it's okay, love."

"But . . ."

Harry shook his head. "I—I need to, to get in touch with Sirius. I'll, erm, see you later, yeah? I'm on table-duty for lunch. You?"

Hermione nodded, Neville, shook his head. But before Harry could leave, Neville did one more thing. He caught up with Harry at the door to the classroom and, in front of Hermione, caught the other man's hand. "Hey."

Confusion darkened Harry's eyes. "What? Here?"

Gryffindor courage, Neville reminded himself. "Don't you want to?"

After darting a glance to Hermione, Harry's confusion became more clear, but he was also smiling a little. "Really?"

"Oh, please," Hermione whispered, the longing in her words carrying softly to them.

Somehow, both men chuckled and drew close enough for their mouths to meet again. Harry tasted like coffee with sugar, and he was much more sure of himself as they deepened their kiss.

"That is so hot," Hermione murmured, still staying at her desk. " _Finite incantatem_ ," she added, so that the door would open and their speech was no longer obscured.

"It really is," Neville added. Harry shook his head, but didn't deny it.

"We need to talk some more," Harry murmured. "But first, I need to talk to Sirius."

"Right. See you tonight?"

"Professor Granger?"

"Percy! Come in!"

Neville and Harry moved a step apart from each other by mutual, unspoken consent. Yes, they wanted to explore what was between them, Neville knew, but neither were ready for anyone else to know about it.

Except Hermione.

After they paid the courtesies to the visiting man from the Ministry, Harry led the way to the corridor. "Thank you, Nev. Thank you for taking care of her, for everything. When I was, was fighting and dying and all that?"

Neville winced and made to wave off the gratitude. "It wasn't for you, Harry."

"I know, but on Hallowe'en night? Knowing you would be with her, when I was, was gone, helped me a lot. Made it easier to go, you know?"

"Merlin, Harry. I don't even want to think about that night."

"Nor me, but—"

"Enough. For right now, all right?"

"Tonight?"

"Tonight."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thank you for reading! I appreciate **all** of you. I do not at this moment have a peek into the next chapter, but I will tell you there is a lot of . . . talking. Because folks need sorting, no? _

_And on the topic of sorting, Neville puts great stock in being a **Gryffindor**. What Houses are you in, Readers? Pottermore sorted me to Ravenclaw, but cross-house sorting sent me to Slytherpuff! _

_I will try to have the next chapter out later this week._


	11. New Options

_**A/N:** My gratitude to all of you following along with this story, adding it to your lists, and a dollop of cream for all who review! I did my best to get this chapter out to you be the end of the week . . . and I think I made it. _

_To **Katmom** **the Magnificent** , I proffer humble thanks for putting up with me. She's amazing._

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE**

 **NEW OPTIONS**

"Hermione, if I may?" Percy Weasley strode into the classroom as if he held the deed to the castle. He wore elegant robes, she thought. A deep midnight blue, they didn't rustle or billow, but draped with dignity over his medium-sized frame. Hair as red as Ron's was styled conservatively, and a cravat was visible at his throat. Altogether, Hermione thought, his appearance was calculated.

But for whose benefit?

"Hermione is fine, Percy. Of course. We've known each other for too long to be formal, haven't we?" Still, she re-buttoned the cuff she'd undone for Harry and moved to run her hands down her robes in case she was at all out of sorts. That kiss between Neville and Harry had set her blood to burning in her body in a very, very nice way. "Sit down, sit down. Shall I get you something? I have tea in my office just through that door, if you'd like."

He smiled at her, a thin, efficient sort of expression. "Thank you, Hermione. That would be nice. I wanted to speak to you before the Muggle-born students arrive, to give you the first information that I could. Ron asked me to come by, but in truth, I had planned on owling you first thing Monday morning, anyway, to give you an idea of what was going on since, er Hallowe'en and the death of the Minister." He leant back in the hardback student chair and crossed his legs. "Of course, the policies of the former Minister have all been set aside until such time as they can be affirmed by a new Minister and the Wizengamot . . . after new House seats are filled, of course, with the heirs of those who have perished or been incarcerated due to the recent . . . events."

Hermione bristled at the way Percy referenced the matters of law that had circumscribed her life so very much for years. She stood in utter indignation, however, when he diminished the battle in which Harry had lost his life. "Percy Weasley!" she nearly shouted. " _Recent events_? Harry Potter died that night! Severus Snape saved all of Wizarding Britain! You will not sweep any of that under a rug. Not for anything. I won't allow it."

"You?" Percy angled a brow, seeming entirely unruffled by her diatribe. "I'm still working on working getting you able to appear in the Ministry. In public, Hermione. Best leave the lectern here at Hogwarts when you do," he advised in a dry way.

Still seething inwardly, she retreated to her chair. "Fine. I'll do my best. For now."

Percy Weasley nodded as if to a recalcitrant child before continuing. "At this stage, we at the Ministry—all of us who have met over the past frenetic days—agree that the persecution of the Muggle-born must end and a means found to relocate those who have fled England. We are not so numerous that we can afford to lose anyone, no matter their blood status."

"There shouldn't be 'blood status' anymore," Hermione countered. "We're all witches or wizards. Period. Why make distinctions? I understand that we need to be some measures taken to keep the Statute of Secrecy, of course, and the families of Muggle-born witches and wizards should be made to know these things most clearly." That her own family were beyond any such measures was something she did not dwell upon at the moment. "But why make distinctions in the wizarding world?"

Percy appeared taken aback by her blunt question. "What? Why wouldn't we? Blood tells, Hermione."

"Tells what?" _Inbreeding_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it in. "I've been working with all blood statuses since I've been at Hogwarts and, aside from strong, physical, family traits, I don't see differences."

Percy frowned and, perhaps subconsciously, touched his hair. Which was red as any Weasley's. "It doesn't really matter for today, Hermione. Today," he went on, clearing his throat and rising to his feet, "I mean to answer questions from your Muggle-born students. To reassure them that the Evaluation is not going to be taking place as it was originally planned. And to assure them that they are safe to move about openly, now. No one is going to be trying to capture them or curse them or send them out of Britain and I hope they won't make plans to do so." He paced a bit between his seat and the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. "I'd appreciate it if you would, er, postpone any further discussion about the distinction of blood statuses until we can meet elsewhere. Additionally—" He spun around, his face suddenly alight. "I have been asked to inquire if you'd like to leave Hogwarts and join the Ministry in an official role."

She was still staring at him in astonishment when the first of her Muggle-born students came in through the classroom door.

* * *

"Hermione?" She heard three raps on the door to her quarters. "You ready for lunch?"

It wasn't Neville. Securing her hair in a hand-plaited rope over one shoulder, Hermione opened her door, smiling when she saw Harry. "Hi! Yes, I'm ready. Is Neville joining us?"

Harry's cheeks pinked up—something Hermione felt she understood entirely, so she asked no questions. "Er, no," he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck whilst she eased out the door and into the corridor so they could walk to the Great Hall together. "He made a quick trip to Diagon Alley by Floo, actually. Said he had to meet with someone."

"Oh! Okay." She wanted to push for more information, but decided that, if the men were going to undertake a relationship, she didn't want to be constantly nosing into it, no matter how curious she was. "How was the rest of your morning?" she asked instead.

Harry seemed to relax at that. "Oh, pretty great, actually. I went to see Sirius and Remus and got my broom back." He laughed a little and she could imagine him, ever so briefly, as a student here. How he might have been in a more carefree time. He had been on the Quidditch team, even in their first year, and he would probably have been Captain, eventually. He caught her staring and quirked a smile at her. "What?" she asked. Holding out one hand, he halted their progress and she answered his unspoken question. "It's weird, you know. Seeing you here and all that. I mean, I thought about it for years, when we were younger. Going to school with you, Nev, and Ron."

He glanced down at her left arm and she steeled herself for another onslaught of his apologies, but he merely compressed his lips, patted her arm, and then waved her forward. "Mostly during your second and third years, here, I guess. Before it got . . . weird."

"Yeah. The Tournament was a real turning point."

"Yeah."

"So," she said on a breath as they walked, but slowly, toward the Hall. "How are Sirius and Remus settling in? After living all over the world, as you have, it must seem very provincial to be settling in Hogsmeade."

"They're actually quite content, I think. They might open a shop of one sort or another, and my godfather has the estate to manage and so on, so he's pretty busy anyway. Being Lord Black, he's told me more than once, is a lot of work."

"I can only imagine." They had reached the Hall and she was pleased enough to reach their accustomed seats without being approached by students. After the morning meeting with Percy, she had stayed to let the Muggle-born students express their concerns, plans, and problems, as well as creating an orderly presentation to give to the Ministry for retrieving any families that had gone abroad. Still, there would be questions, she knew.

Merlin knew she had some herself!

Lunch consisted of brown onion soup with a glazed cheese crouton, and roast chicken with potatoes and carrots. A heavy meal, but Sundays in the castle were often marked by many students and staff having a lie-in, so the afternoon offerings were substantial. Evenings were characterized by finishing all that needed doing by Monday morning, so the supper menus were lighter, in general. She and Harry made small talk, discussing what she had learnt from Percy Weasley that morning, and hearing what ideas Harry had, from his time residing in different Wizarding and Muggle communities over the years.

Which was lovely, really, Hermione told herself. And it would have been perfect if she hadn't been remembering—far too often for her comfort—how Harry had looked when he and Neville had kissed in her own classroom earlier that day.

"Hermione?" he murmured, nudging her under the table with his foot. "You okay?"

She blushed, self-conscious and totally embarrassed to have been caught staring. "Sorry," she whispered. "Mind was wandering."

"Again?" He grinned, a twinkle in his eye that felt flirtatious. "Nev wasn't kidding about the Absent-Minded Professor thing, eh?"

She reached for her tea and took a fortifying sip. "I try not to, but it happens, sometimes."

"Well," he said, leaning toward her a bit, "I'd pay a Galleon to know where your mind wandered to bring that color to your cheeks."

"Cheeky bugger," she retorted. "It was watching you and Nev this morning, if you must know."

"Ah," he drawled, moving back and sliding his fork under some potatoes. "So it wasn't the way I almost kissed you?"

She choked on her tea. "What? I mean, er, _what_?"

Harry just cocked one expressive eyebrow as he slid the potatoes off his fork, watching her all the while. She couldn't help but stare at the way his mouth encompassed the food, even though it seemed quite inappropriate. Her heart started pounding and her mouth went dry as he finished and swallowed before leaning in again. "You know, you have the most kissable lips at the table right now."

"What, what about Neville?" she wondered, flustered and ridiculously aroused by such an innocent statement.

A bit of color raced under his skin as well and that helped her calm down. "He's not at the table right now, is he?"

They shared an awkward chuckle and she tried to change the subject. Because he shouldn't be flirting with her if he was kissing Neville and they were here in front of the entire Great Hall on a Sunday afternoon, and she really needed to find her composure.

"I thought you two were together now?" she ventured to ask after she was able to take a sip of her tea without choking.

"We're not exclusive," he said airily, cutting into his chicken breast. "You know, like the two of you?"

"Is that what he said? That we're dating but not exclusive?"

"Isn't that how it works for you guys?" His former light demeanor darkened a bit and he paused, holding a bite of chicken on his fork. "I thought—"

"No, it is, it's just that we haven't, er, done anything for, er, a while. Gone out, I mean. I thought the two of you . . . would work? Don't you?" Hope flew but a strange, sad, discontent followed it through her mind. "It looked like it, anyway."

"We need to talk. To get sorted. After Neville comes back from Diagon Alley."

"You should do that. Right." She smiled a little. "You look great together, you know?"

"But . . . you and Nev look great together as well," he told her.

She blushed and firmly turned to her soup. It was getting cold as she hadn't been able to eat whilst her mind wandered. She played with the melted cheese on the surface of the porridger, which was what the soup had been served in that day. "I want him to be happy. As happy as he can possibly be. And I want that for you as well, Harry Potter. You both deserve all the best in the world, and if you find that with each other," she went on after swallowing an awkward mouthful of onion soup and cheese, "I will be so very pleased for you."

Looking sincerely troubled, Harry nudged her foot with his again. "Hermione . . ."

"Really. We should eat. My soup's going to congeal, soon."

* * *

"Honestly, Mister Pemberton. One would think you'd have learnt how to properly use a semi-colon by now," Hermione muttered at the essay before her. She enjoyed teaching Charms, but could now better understand Severus's perpetually sour expression, after only a couple of years of teaching young people who refused to learn to write a fully functional, legible, grammatically correct essay.

Still, it was done and she marked it and placed it on the top of her stack on the small secretary desk in her quarters. It was something she had salvaged from her home in Crawley. It was a Chippendale Maddox desk, and her mother had it from _her_ mother, proclaiming, "It's mahogany!" whenever little Hermione had wanted to scribble on its writing surface.

The piece had been the only thing Hermione had been able to salvage after Voldemort had killed her parents. She ran a fond hand across the top, leaving the desk open with its stacks of parchment on the writing surface. "What would Mum say about this?" she asked herself quietly. "She'd probably tell me to get over Neville, if I felt so strongly about him and Harry being good together. Or maybe she'd advise me to, what, leave this job and get a new one, now that the Unlamented Dark Minister is gone?"

A Patronus distracted her from her thoughts—Neville's bear. An enormous manifestation of the man now nicknamed Basilisk's Bane, the silvery apparition plowed right through her wall and stopped in front of her.

"Hermione! Come join Harry and me in Greenhouse Three after rounds."

After rounds? That was at least after half ten!

Then, another Patronus entered her quarters and she blinked in surprise. It was a stag. A huge one, with broad antlers that seemed to take up a good portion of the room. As the bear ambled out, the stag took center stage and spoke in Harry's voice. "Hermione, don't stand us up, all right? And bring a coat. It could be chilly."

Both of them? Were they going to kiss in front of her again? Who needed a coat when that would happen? The evergreens in Greenhouse Three would find the sap running like spring had come!

She stepped briskly to the bedroom and warned the mirror, "Do not harass me this evening! I will cover you!"

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" the glass inquired, the voice sly and still demanding.

"Rounds, if you must know." She Summoned her best cold-weather robes; they were a red wool and silk blend that Augusta Longbottom had bought for her for Christmas last year.

"A likely story. Oh, don't do your hair like that!"

Hermione paused in the act of braiding her hair. "I always wear it like that."

"For rounds?" The mirror was certainly being presumptuous.

"I told you, no harassment!" With a focused, wandless gesture, she Summoned the quilt on the top of her bed and draped it over the mirror. "You be quiet!" Then free from commentary, she checked the crisp white collar of the blouse under her robes and awkwardly checked her tights and skirt. She left her hair in its customary braid; it was controlled and professional. Looking "adult" whilst teaching in a school where her former schoolmates were still seen as students had been something to adjust to, over the past years.

But, Percy was on to something; she didn't have to teach any longer. She could leave the castle, find a position elsewhere, stretch her wings. Maybe even pursue a Mastery!

She had never really been able to get the knack of producing a Patronus, so she didn't send a message back to the men, but she did step out and make herself visible for rounds. Neither Harry nor Neville was on duty that night, lucky fellows, but she had the next three nights off and she intended to enjoy them.

Emerging from the staff's residential wing, she nodded at the Hufflepuff Prefects, Amanda Morris and Bertram White. Morris and White were in their sixth year and Hermione privately favored White for Head Boy next year. He was approachable, intelligent, but he knew how to pour oil on troubled waters. That was the skill, Hermione felt, that would prove most useful in coming times.

It was a skill she herself felt singularly unable to master. Like the Patronus Charm.

As the hour passed, she found a pair of Ravenclaws hiding behind a tapestry depicting the first time the Giant Squid made an appearance. "Ten points from Ravenclaw. Get on to your tower, you lot."

"Sorry, Professor Granger."

"Please don't tell Flitwick!"

"It's _Professor_ Flitwick, and I won't tonight. But he will get the usual report in the morning."

The Ravenclaws took that phlegmatically and turned, holding hands, to step quickly in the direction of Ravenclaw's tower. Hermione wondered if there would be a riddle for entry at that time of night or not.

After sending a Hufflepuff and Slytherin couple to their respective dwellings, and taking more points whilst suppressing the smile that threatened constantly as the time to meet the men approached.

Oh, sure, she was curious. And nervous, and anticipatory. But the resulting smile gave her feet light steps and kept her from dreading the meeting. Still she clutched her robes tightly about her to ward off the chill of the November evening as she strode across the Transfiguration Courtyard to the Greenhouses. What did they want to talk about? Why meet out here?

"Shite! It's Granger! Run!"

An errant pair of girls tossed up a Disillusionment Charm as they ran—loudly—across the Courtyard. Impressed, Hermione called loudly, "I'd be tempted to give points for your cleverness, but as I don't know who you are, I guess I can't!"

Laughter bounced up around her and she chuckled as well. Her nerves were largely dispelled as she entered the Herbology sector and made her way to Greenhouse Number Three.

"You're here!"

"You made it!"

Neville and Harry, garbed in basic long-sleeved shirts and trousers, each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her further into the structure. "It's so warm in here," was her first brilliant observation. "I thought you advised me, Harry, to wear a coat."

"Well," the Defense Professor temporized from behind her, still holding her hand as Neville held the other one and tugged her forward, "it _was_ chilly. But Neville examined the plants and decided that a brief increase in temperature wasn't going to traumatize them. It's actually not that warm in here." He pointed to a Muggle thermometer that was preferred by Pomona Sprout. "See?" The temperature read at 15ºC.

"It's like Autumn in London, then. Very not bad," Hermione remarked. "Thank you, Neville."

They reached the teaching table, where the Herbology professors kept all the important, edged tools and so on, and Neville stopped their progress before asking, "May I?" indicating her red robes. She nodded and was pleasantly surprised when both men divested her of the garment and hung it up carefully on the coat rack at the end of the table.

"So what did you want to see me about?" she inquired, looking from one expectant, green-eyed gaze to the other. "Oh, and Harry? Very nice Patronus."

"I named him Prongs. My, my father was an Animagus, a stag, and his friends named _him_ Prongs."

"An Animagus! Brilliant! I've always wanted to try that, but I'd have to register and—"

"Well, you can now, yeah?" Neville interrupted with a crooked smile.

She leaned against the table, suddenly overwhelmed by a world that seemed to burst open right in front of her. "I could! I was thinking earlier of further study, but there's more to life than that, yeah?"

"You said something to me our first year and I've never forgotten it," Harry murmured, seeming a bit awed at his recollection. He moved forward a bit, taking both of her hands in his. "I was embarrassed, not feeling like much of a wizard at that moment, what with one thing and another, and you said— Hermione, you said, 'Books and cleverness! There are more important things: friendship and bravery.' And then you told me to be careful. And we got the Philosopher's Stone and kicked Voldemort's arse and . . ."

"And your godfather took you away from us," Hermione whispered, gripping his hands tightly. She felt Neville's body heat behind her and, for a moment, drew comfort from it. "But it was quite an amazing adventure."

"See, though, Hermione, you've got it _all_ ," Harry went on to say, his voice a bit rough but he looked her squarely in the eye. "Books and cleverness, yes. Always. But you're a top-rate friend and so very brave. I guess I still don't feel like I'm, well, worthy? Good enough? to be a friend or . . ."

She couldn't listen to that without comment, so she wrenched one of her hands from his and held it between them, barely touching his lips with her fingertips. "None of that. You've been living a big life, Harry. A good one. And you're here, now, with us, and we're all together again and that's . . . that's one of the things I wished for, for years. Right, Neville?"

"Absolutely. I told you she talked about you, Harry," Neville said, his voice warm.

Then there was a moment of heavy silence that Hermione could not manage to decipher before Harry nodded shortly, his gaze intense. "One of the things _I_ wished for, for years, was to be with you as well, Hermione," he admitted. Neville slid both his arms around her waist as Harry continued to speak and, for some reason, this only made Hermione feel safe and cared for, as if the men were trying very hard to give her this moment for herself. "One of the things I really wanted . . ."

"Yes?"

"Was to kiss you."

Heat flared in her chest and flew up her throat. "Me?"

"Yeah."

"But . . . you and Nev . . ."

"It was you first," he whispered, stepping even closer, so that she could smell the scents of pine and butterbeer on him, as well as a whiff of what might have been Neville's favorite soap. Which made her hot, for some reason. So, so hot. "And I want to, even now."

She swallowed thickly, unable to think, at that moment, of a single good reason why he shouldn't. "All right," she managed to whisper, conscious of Neville's heat behind her, firm and supportive. He had to be okay with this, as it was happening right in front of him, and he—

And then she couldn't think of anything else because Harry's lips met hers and the silent dreams of years sparked with heat as they came to life.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I know. I am so evil. The next chapter is one I have been waiting to write since I decided to go with the N/H/H triad idea, and so I hope to have it out early next week. If you want a brief sneak peek, cast the revealing charm: Aparecium! Remember, it only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs!_

 _The menu for lunch was taken, again, from The Harrow School sample menu._


	12. Can We Do This?

**_A/N_** _: Oh! Regarding the House Poll - I love the number of Eagles and Snakes represented! And cheers to the Badgers, too! Not a lot of Lions chiming in, but if you're out there, be bold and daring and let your roars be heard!_

 _Tip of the hat and a bottle of Ogden's Finest to **Sundaegirl99** for catching review #300! And my continued gratitude to all who are reading, adding this fic to their lists, and leaving me such kind notes!_

 ** _Katmom_** _continues to be the woman of lavender-harvesting win. My thanks for always being patient with emails that contain random snippets._

 _Sorry this took longer than anticipated to get out. We started back to school this week (for reals) and my schedule's been all weird. Hope my readers in the States had a safe and sane Independence Day!_

 _[Edit: Ridiculous autocorrect! Dragon Alley is now_ _Diagon Alley. Ugh.]_

* * *

 **CHAPTER TEN**

 **CAN WE DO THIS?**

In the heartbeat before he closed his eyes and melted against Hermione's lips, Harry darted a silent question toward Neville, who was wrapped around her from behind. The quick nod, the smile, the light in the moss-green eyes told Harry to _Go ahead, already_.

So he did.

The touch of her lips against his was sweet, chaste, and warm. Like coming home. He needed more, though, so he pressed for it. Holding her mouth with his, asking if he could enter, moving his hands slowly up the smooth sleeves of her blouse whilst never forgetting the scar she bore. The memory made him tender, careful, but also filled with awe and appreciation as she opened for him.

And then, as he enjoyed doing when he kissed, he moved to cup the back of her neck and froze. The skin, there, was ridged. Burnt. Mottled under his fingers. Opening his eyes, he met hers and then Neville's and was brought up short by the tender patience he could see in each of them.

"Touch her," Neville murmured, brushing his fingers over Harry's. "It's okay."

"It really is," Hermione assured him. She shifted to bring her arms up to his shoulders, leaving her torso open and vulnerable to his hands, if he were to be bold enough to follow through.

Watching her—the dark eyes in the shadowed greenhouse were warm with affection, he felt—he skimmed her sides with the palms of his hands, over her blouse, up and down and then he spread his fingers slowly. Carefully. He was half afraid of what he might touch, under the fabric, but that made him almost angry at himself. _She_ had borne the scars for years and _he_ was afraid to touch them? _Don't be an arse, Potter_. He dipped his fingers to the waistband of her skirt, to tug gently on her blouse, watching to see if he were offending her.

She smiled and slid her fingers into his hair, pulling his face close to hers and brushing her lips along his jaw. "Touch me, Harry."

Neville helped, lifting her top up and away and, much to Harry's shock, covering his hands. "It's all right," the other wizard murmured, guiding him.

With Neville's hands atop his, and Hermione's lips brushing against his skin, Harry felt her back. It was surreal. It was devastating. He felt his eyes burn even as he spread one hand over the middle of her back to pull her in closer and used his other hand to grip Neville's for support. His heart was racing, his body hardened, and he could feel Hermione pressing fully into him, pouring tiny sounds into his mouth as she allowed herself to be so vulnerable to him.

He also felt Neville, holding his hand and holding Hermione's hip. The three of them, all together, felt strong. Safe in a way Harry hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

He gentled the passion in the kiss and tucked her head under his chin, staring at Neville as he did so. "Thank you," he whispered, not sure if he were thanking both of them or only one.

"You're welcome," Neville said in answer, leaning forward and lightly, as if he were being cautious, brushing his lips against Harry's own. "We good?"

"Yeah."

Then, Hermione stiffened between them before she made an uncomfortable sound and started to squirm away. "Wait. Wait. I'm so sorry—"

"No. no apologies, Hermione." Harry shook his head and immediately tightened his hold on her, his arm still pressed into the bare skin of her back. He freed his other hand from Neville's and cupped her face, heated with her blush. "What are you sorry for, anyway? Kissing me?" He smiled. "You'd said it was all right or, believe me, I never would have presumed, okay? You weren't _lying_ , were you?"

"No! Of course not!" A spark lit in her gaze and Harry exchanged a quick look with Neville, who leaned forward to the edge of one of her ears. She sighed a little. "I was just . . . carried away."

"So was I," Harry admitted. Then, he grinned. "Nev might have been, as well."

Her blush reignited and Hermione arched her neck to see Neville. Harry managed somehow to resist tasting that lovely expanse of her throat. Just then, it seemed very important that they talk about this . . . arrangement. Situation. Whatever it was that was brewing between them. And Neville was, as of today, likely the best equipped to handle that discussion.

"Neville." Hermione blew out a breath that smelt like apple tart. "Where were you, today?"

Harry suppressed a grin. Yes, that had gone well. He smiled when the other man kissed Hermione's throat, though he didn't loosen his own hold at all.

"I went to Diagon Alley to see Fred and George Weasley," Neville said.

Surprise fairly flared from Hermione's body. "Oh? You know your grandmother doesn't entirely trust them."

Harry chuckled and moved to kiss her, lightly, eyes open, just because he could. "Well, I imagine Neville is allowed to associate with whom he likes, now that's he's a professor."

Neville surprised Harry a bit by choosing that moment to kiss him again, before gently coaxing Hermione into his own embrace. "Exactly. So. Look, here, sweetheart. I've got a transfigured arrangement here so we can talk without having any of us sit alone." He led Hermione to what Harry considered to be a modular corner sofa, but on the scale of a loveseat, really. Cozy and just right for three.

"Clever there, Nev," Hermione remarked, bending to run her hand along the brown cushion in the middle. "Leather, though?"

"Easier to clean the dirt off of leather," Neville told her. "I used an Impervious on it as well, to protect against water and whatnot."

"Brilliant!" Hermione's smile lit up the greenhouse and Neville seemed to blush a little, which Harry found quite charming. Neville had demonstrated, well, _leadership_ , in this relationship—extended and otherwise—and it was amusing to see that the shyer boy he remembered from childhood was still in there, albeit grown into quite a handsome man by anyone's standards.

Certainly Harry's own!

"Who gets the middle?" Hermione wanted to know.

Harry indicated Neville with a quick gesture. "He'll be talking."

"But then I'd have to look back and forth a lot," Neville protested. With a playful light in his eyes, he added, "Though I've no objection whatsoever to being in the middle in the future."

Hermione gasped, eyes wide. "Neville!"

"I'll sit here and we can put Harry in the middle." Neville folded himself down to the left, Hermione, grinning, sat on the other end-piece and Harry bowed to the inevitable to claim the corner. "Now," Neville said, deliberately taking one of Harry's hands. "This is nice." They all agreed and, for a minute, the silence between them was comfortable, with Hermione hitching herself to better see them both, her eyes warm and smile content.

But she wasn't touching him anymore, and that worried Harry just a bit. "Nev?" he prompted.

"Right. So, I went to see the twins. You'll remember, Hermione, how they always did everything together."

"Cor, yes. They constantly pretended to be the other one, too, and when one had detention, they both took it, just because none of the professors could trust that the innocent party—"

"As if either of them were ever innocent," Neville interrupted with a snort.

"—Was the one serving detention and letting the guilty go free. Harry, did you ever meet them?"

"Not past first year, no. But Ron would sometimes tell me some pranks they pulled and he was quite proud when they set up an owl-post business."

"They got a shop, two years ago," Neville said. "And they got married."

"Both of them! Well of course. One couldn't do anything without the other. What's their shop like?"

"Noisy, busy, and they've got a lot of, well, interesting items."

"Now that Riddle's gone," Harry suggested, "perhaps you could visit it?"

Hermione seemed to think about that, pressing her lips together a bit. "Might not be a bad idea, seeing what the students could be bringing to school in advance."

Harry reached out and tapped her lightly on one tight-covered knee. "So you can recognize them on rounds?"

"Of course!"

"We should do that," Neville said. Then, he cleared his throat a bit and Harry shifted just enough to meet his eyes full-on. "But what I went there for was not to spy out future detentions-waiting-to-happen. See, Hermione, Harry, Fred and George caused something of a dust-up even after they finished here at Hogwarts. They, er, were both dating the same girl."

"Johnson! The Quidditch Captain for our fifth year! I remember," she went on, kicking off her shoes, drawing her legs up under herself, and looking for all the world as if she were still a student.

Harry squeezed Neville's hand, with which he was finger-twined, and reached for hers at the same time. She slid her fingers between his naturally, and he wondered if the three of them could have done this, if he had stayed at school. The three of them, cuddled on the sofa in front of the hearth in the common room, writing essays or reading together or—as might have been most likely, what with all he'd heard from Neville, Hermione, and Ron—plotting out how to fight Death Eaters.

No. Far better that he had kept that kind of fighting away from Hermione and Neville. They had had enough to contend with, what with a basilisk and that damned Triwizard Tournament.

"So, if the twins got married," Hermione was saying, unaware of the path of Harry's thoughts, "does that mean Angelina chose one of them?"

"Er, no, sweetheart. She actually chose _both_ of them, which is why there was that dust-up I mentioned."

Harry had known, of course, that this was coming, but Hermione had clearly had no clue. He met Neville's eye again and the other man looked serious, but hopeful. _Right, then_.

Hermione stiffened. "Both of them?"

"Both of them."

Her lips parted and then made a silent _O_ that, to his discomfort, only made Harry think of those dreams he'd had in his mid-teens. Neville noticed the heat in his cheeks and, as if the man was a Legilimens, he winked.

"Both of them," Hermione repeated on a sigh. "Why didn't I hear about it? Wasn't it in the papers or something?"

"Er, no, her family was happy, of course, but Molly Weasley was somewhat loud in her disapproval."

Hermione winced. "She can be that way, indeed."

Harry made a face. "Ron used to tell me about her Howlers. Apparently, they're infamous."

"Legendary," Neville concurred. "Anyway, Hermione, I went to talk to them about how they were able to, well, have a functioning triad. How that worked for them, you know?"

"A triad," Hermione whispered, eyes wide. She appeared to have trouble with her breathing as she studied Neville first, then Harry. "Oh." Harry figured they should have expected her near-instant demurral. "No, wait. Look, Nev, I didn't mean for _that_ when I said, _you know_ , back in September. I wasn't wanting you to feel, feel obligated to include me."

"Hermione!" Harry and Neville nearly shouted, and Harry was happy that they sounded equally exasperated. They shared a look and made a mutual, unspoken decision to shift their positions. Harry rose to his feet and tugged Hermione up to him. She complied in a boneless way. "You're in the middle," he told her.

"But I thought, I thought it'd be you," she murmured, collapsing in the corner seat. "Neville, I knew you and Harry would be good together, but I never meant—"

"We know, love, believe me. But what did I tell you, not too long ago? If I had had the least idea that you weren't also interested in Harry, here, I would have taken advantage of those protocols a year ago."

Her blush was fiery. "Right, that. But, now? I mean, you two. You two are so amazing together. I love listening to you talk at dinner and—"

"Exactly." Harry decided it was his turn to try to be persuasive. "And I'm really glad you said something to him, love, because you gave him the confidence to, well, try."

"And a bit of work that was," Neville said with feigned irritation.

Hermione held up her hands, palm out to each man, and shook her head. "Wait. So you agree that you are well-suited, but you still want . . ."

"You." Without another word, Neville kissed her. No soft brushing of lips but more of a passionate claiming, much as Harry himself had done only minutes ago.

He watched with avid focus. He leant forward, able to breathe in their air, getting the scents of her and of him combined and he hoped, for the first time in a tangible way, that this would be his new life. Hermione curled into Neville's body and Harry scooted in behind her, not thinking about it, but just following his instincts. He liked to plan, yes, but Sirius had told him years ago that his instincts were pretty damned good and he trusted them. So he skimmed his arm lightly along Neville's and lifted Hermione's braid from her back so that he could nuzzle the back of her neck. The scarred back of her neck that he had touched not long ago. He brushed the skin there with his nose, learning the textures and her scent. Though he still felt regret and pain about what had happened to her, he was trying very hard to accept it as she had seemed to. The scars were old, and she had never, not once, wavered in her friendship.

A moan sounded in Hermione's throat and he could feel it against his lips. His response was immediate and he groaned softly against her skin as he slid his free hand between her body and the leather cushion of Neville's transfigured furniture. She allowed him room to move so he did, sliding his hand up over her blouse, up to cup the smooth shape of her breast. As her own body hardened under his questing fingers, he lightly pulled on the peak hearing her moan—that time for him.

Neville came up for air and regarded him through hot, narrow slits of eyes. "Harry."

"Hm?" He was focusing on moving his other hand, stretching down Neville's side at that point, feeling the firm planes of the other man's torso.

"You want to?"

Hermione sighed and leant back into Harry's nearly desperate body. He shifted and made an awkward adjustment of his legs so that she was braced now between this thighs. Neville pulled her legs up, pushed her skirt up, his hands moving to her waist as if she wasn't wearing anything. But she was. Even so, her legs parted and Neville scooted between them.

There really wasn't room for this, though, Harry decided. Hermione seemed to agree, as she twitched and curled and finally huffed out an impatient breath. "I am reminded," she said as she gently rocked back against Harry's growing arousal, "of last summer, Neville, when we had to stop."

"Worst case of blue bollocks ever," Neville confided to Harry in an undertone. He looked uncomfortable, but also happy and oddly serene, for all the awkwardness of their current position.

"Can we do this?"

It was Hermione who asked the question and Neville who answered with a nod. "We can. But we'll cause our own bit of a dust-up, I daresay."

"How bad might it be?" Harry wondered, kneading Hermione's abdomen under her blouse. Her stomach was smooth and unscarred and he could feel her muscles clench in what might have been a ticklish reaction that he would have explored any other time.

Neville blew out a breath. "Well, it's not like it's illegal or anything. The Ministry has no laws against it; the twins checked."

Hermione laughed a little and Harry grinned over her shoulder at her. "They studied a lot of law when they were here, I remember," she said. "They wanted to stay just on the right side without going over."

"They've done it. And though I'm sure, Hermione," Neville said, gripping Harry's hand now as well as hers, "you'll want to do your research, I think we'll be all right. Legally, anyway."

"But what about your House?" she whispered, her former good humor sliding from her face. "I have been so grateful to be a Protected Member of House Longbottom, Nev. I have. But will that arrangement allow for . . . for us?"

"That, I haven't looked up," Neville confessed.

"All right. I can add that to my list," Hermione said. After blowing out a breath, she drew a long one back in again. "So . . . we can do this?"

"Do we want to?" Harry asked. When the other two stared at him with what could almost amount to accusations in brown and green eyes, he tried to smile reassuringly, but wasn't sure how it came off. "I want to try. I do. Nev, mate, you—" he faltered, but thought back to his earlier conversation with Sirius.

 _"_ _Do you love the man?" his godfather had asked, stirring sugar into the cup of tea in the white china cup before him._

 _"_ _I don't know," Harry answered. "It's always been Hermione, in my head, right?"_

 _Sirius smiled a little. Sadness and regret darkening his gray eyes. "I know. You haven't had a lot of comparison, casual dates aside. You've never dated another man, have you?"_

 _"_ _No, you know that. But I've seen how you and Remus are and I—I like that. I could do that." He had shrugged and slouched low in the chair at Sirius's breakfast table. "I want to, Sirius. But what if he's not the only one I want?"_

 _Pain darted briefly across Sirius's face. "Sometimes, lad, you have to make a choice. Remember, Hermione has a claim on you as well. That's . . . going to matter."_

In Greenhouse Three that night, Harry gently eased away from Hermione and Neville and pushed himself to his feet. They stared at him with twin expressions of concern. "What is it?" Hermione asked, reaching out a tentative hand that she withdrew when he only smiled at her.

"Hermione, I told you. You've always been the ideal in my mind, you know? I haven't had a relationship before."

"You're a virgin too?"

Harry had to laugh when the other two blurted out that question in the same breath. Then, he blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Er, not exactly, but—"

The others nodded in tandem and Harry briefly wondered if he was _sure_ he knew what he was getting into as his heart sped a bit. "Look, I know I'm something of the odd man out, here. We—" He made a gesture to include the three of them. "We don't have the same history the pair of you do, but—"

"You've always been a part of us, Harry." Hermione rose to her feet as well and embraced him lightly about the waist. "Always."

"Told you so, mate," Neville concurred from the sofa. He leaned back, looking more relaxed. "Yes, I want to."

"So do I."

Harry swallowed his nerves and dropped a kiss to Hermione's forehead. "Right." He held out his hand to Neville and the other man joined them in a standing circle. "So, we need to know what to do about the Protected Member status thing, right?"

"Right."

"And we need to know how that will be affected by one really important thing."

"What's that?"

"Hermione Granger, I owe you a Life Debt."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks again for your patience! Hard at work on the next chapter, in which they might have to make some adjustments. Can they do this? Can they be a married triad? Will Hermione's status cause any issues? What about their future prospects?_

 _This is an Epilogue, after all, and I know you will want to know. ;-)_

 _A sneak peek will be on hand shortly for anyone who casts the revealing spell: **Aparecium**! Remember it only works if you are signed in and accepting PMs!_


	13. In or Out?

**_A/N:_** _So glad you're still with me. :) I appreciate that all y'all are here, adding this story to your lists, and I especially enjoy hearing from you personally!_

 _I apologize for the wait between this chapter and the last one. Real life can indeed get in the way of the fictional. One thing I did was to write a story for my brother's birthday. If I were an artist, I would have created something artsy. If I could sew, I would have made him a shirt or something. But, alas, my creative tool is a keyboard._

 _However, we're back in Hogwarts and Neville is wondering how he's feeling…because, you know, the uncertainty has to be shared 'round._

 _Thanks again for being here!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

 **IN OR OUT?**

"A Life Debt?" Neville pursed his lips and whistled; he had not even considered that possibility. "How does that even work?"

Harry cocked his head. "Color me astonished that the Pure-blood doesn't know." The teasing was as clear in his tone as it was evident in the clear green gaze that captured Neville's own. "Seriously, though, it's true. I can feel it in my magic, Hermione. Neville, it's there and it's not the sort of thing one can just ignore if it's part of a person."

"Is it because of the CPR?" Hermione asked. "After the battle?"

Neville felt as if a Lumos charm had been lit in his mind. "Ah. Right, then. That would do it. Hermione love, you didn't just defend or protect him, you _restarted_ his _heart_. Brought him back from the Other Side, he said."

"And it counts because I really wanted to be here, on _this_ side," Harry reminded them. "I don't know how to repay it, to be honest, so we should do some research."

Neville grinned and nuzzled Hermione's mussed hair. "Lucky for us, our girl really enjoys that sort of thing." He took a bit of a risk and added, in a wicked tone, "I'd go so far as to say _she gets off_ on it."

He was gratified by Hermione's bright blush and loud disclaimer as well as by Harry's surprised grin. Merlin, but this was going to be an amazing life, with them.

Even thinking that had his heart feel full to bursting and he wished—so very much—that they weren't stuck here in the greenhouses and that there weren't lessons in the morning and—

Hermione was quiet. Harry was snogging her for all she was worth. Neville knew that the other man had chosen the most expeditious method for getting around Hermione's rants—a man needed strategies, didn't he?—and he definitely appreciated the view.

But, it was also a bit odd, now that he was watching from a step or two away and not touching either of them. He wanted to be, but then he didn't want to intrude, either.

 _Am I jealous? Of which one?_

Harry was wrapped around Hermione, his hands sliding under her blouse again, moving up, and Neville could see the edge of the burn scar . . . and Harry didn't seem to be hesitating at all. Which was good, of course, but . . . _Am I jealous? Of him?_

Hermione hadn't seemed on board with the idea of them as a triad, but at the moment, she was obviously invested. He knew how her clever fingers felt when they were doing that sneak-under-the-collar move and she pressed her hips against Harry's and . . . _Am I jealous? Of her?_

Not exactly, but he did feel a bit left out. Had Hermione felt that way when she'd seen them kiss in her classroom the other day? How did Harry feel about it? Was it going to feel weird all the time? But wasn't what they had worth it all?

Making a conscious decision to put the feelings aside for the nonce, Neville decided to become a participant, rather than a spectator. He embraced Harry from behind, lightly, just to make sure it was all right with everyone. And when the kissing pair paused, opened their eyes, and smiled at him, all his unease flowed from him as if it were water over rocks. He pressed himself up against Harry's back and threaded one hand through Hermione's hair. All three let out a sigh of contentment but they were interrupted by whispers.

"She'll have gone by now, come on!"

Neville froze, as did Hermione and Harry. Then, he heard a very quiet, "Shite!"

"Hush!" That was Hermione and the syllable was barely a breath in the air.

"Careful, the plants can defend themselves, Sprout used to say."

"Longbottom—"

"Ha, that's not what we call him in the dorms!"

"Never mind what you call him, I'm not going to get caught after curfew by anyone."

What did they call him in the dorms? Neville pushed that question aside and moved to the most immediate concern as the voices drew nearer: discovery. With a flick of his wand, he doused the few lights and Banished the created corner-sofa-sectional and whispered, "I'll pretend I'm here alone."

"I've got my cloak," Harry murmured.

Hermione's hair tickled Neville's cheek as she leaned closer. "I can—"

"Under the cloak. C'mon."

Neville left the other two to their own escape and immediately pushed his hand into the nearest potted plant. It happened to be a sapling of an evergreen, which worked well for the mess he made. Flinging dirt from his fingers, he wiped his hands on his trousers and called, "This is Professor Longbottom. Who's here?"

Giggles and some not-so-quiet swearing helped to cover Harry and Hermione's escape from the greenhouse and Neville did his best to hide a smile about that. Two girls and a boy appeared, sliding through the shadows and around worktables. He performed a bit of wandless magic and created a bluebell flame that came to rest harmlessly on a paperweight.

The students made appreciative sounds before the young man with them cleared his throat. "Erm, sorry, Professor Longbottom."

"It's after curfew, Mister Cartwright, Miss Chambers, Miss Zeller. Five points from Ravenclaw for each of you." The students nodded their acceptance before exchanging glances with one another. "What?" he asked after they had failed to leave or speak.

"Was Professor Granger here?" Miss Chambers blurted out before covering her mouth with both hands.

Neville cocked his head. "Pardon? Oh, earlier, yes, she stopped by whilst on her rounds. Did you need to see her?"

Patrick Cartwright coughed. "No, sir. Not just now. We'll, we'll just be getting back to the tower."

"May I recommend," Neville said, canceling the flame and moving toward the young people to urge them on their exit route, "that you stay in your tower past curfew? Next time I see you here, I'll double the points lost."

"Yes, sir, Professor Longbottom!"

Miss Zeller looked back at him over her shoulder and asked, "Was she, was she here, then? With you, I mean?"

"Professor Granger? I told you she was," Neville said, mind racing as to what should be said. "We're old friends, going back to our first year when she helped me find my familiar on our way to Hogwarts."

"Ohhh," Miss Zeller and Miss Chambers said in unison.

Without further speculation, Neville escorted the trio to the Ravenclaw Tower. It was quite a climb, up all those winding stairs, and he was doing his best not to have to take great, heaving breaths by the time they reached the door with its enchanted knocker.

Amethyst Chambers met his gaze in a rather bold manner, he thought, before she turned to the knocker. "We'd like to come in," she stated.

"You're tardy, and as such will have to answer twice," the eagle on the door declared. "First, who was the Headmaster of Hogwarts before our current Headmistress. Second, what was the name of the first Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"The first answer is Albus Dumbledore," Miss Chambers stated without hesitation. "The second is a trick question, as the name of the first Headmaster isn't listed anywhere."

"Correctly answered," the eagle replied as the door swung slowly open.

"Remember, twice the points next time," Neville called as the students closed the door behind them.

On his way down the stairs, he contemplated what the students had actually been asking and what the implications for their actions and questions might be.

* * *

"Second years first?" Neville asked Harry as they rose from breakfast.

"Not everyone has the first hour free," the other man replied with a smile. "Banishing Charm for us, today. I have all the pillows ready for practice."

"And a permanent _Protego_ for the hour, I hope," Hermione added as she smiled at them both. "Fortunately, Muggle Studies isn't so, erm, active." Her eyes grew warmer as she regarded them. "So. We should probably talk about last night."

Neville nodded; he'd wanted to do so but by the time he'd returned to his quarters, both Harry and Hermione had gone to their own—which he found out by virtue of the 'Floo network within Hogwarts Staff Wing. "Right. I'm also thinking we should talk to Minerva."

Harry blanched and Hermione pursed her lips, but neither of them disagreed. Harry cut a quick glance to the Headmistress of Hogwarts as the venerable woman leaned over the table to speak with the Head Girl—likely sharing the week's password to the Headmistress's office. "There's nothing in the Staff Regulations about dating," he reminded them in an undertone.

"No, but . . ." Hermione bit her lip and, Neville saw, resolutely did _not_ look toward Minerva. "There are rules as to public displays of affection and so on."

Neville felt himself blush and fought the heat down. "Erm, yeah. So maybe we stay out of the greenhouses? Even after curfew?"

The other two smiled sheepishly and met his eyes before Hermione lunged toward him. "Well, I'm still going to hug you both!" And she did, each of them in turn.

Neville was relieved to find that didn't make him feel remotely jealous. Not at all. He recollected what George Weasley had said to him.

 _"_ _Do I get jealous?" the ginger man had said in repetition of Neville's own question. "Good question, that. See, for us, we've been a triad since Hogwarts, you know? Just didn't come out and make it official." The freckled skin went pink with a quick blush and Neville could only nod. "Jealousy, well . . . it really isn't about the others in our triad as much as it is about ourselves. Feeling, well, insecure?" Neville felt his own skin darken in a blush but he made an agreeable sound and hoped George would continue. "Right, then. Well, see, with that? You need to talk. A lot." George followed that very simple strategy with an offering of a plate of sugary biscuits. "Want one?"_

 _"_ _From you?" Neville scoffed playfully. "Only if Angelina gives the okay."_

 _George had laughed and settled back into the sofa cushions. "So talk, if you're feeling insecure. Mostly, there's no need. I mean, you'll all want to set boundaries for privacy and if you have just-two time and so on—"_

 _"_ _You do that?" Neville blurted before he thought. Then, he realized he was being super intrusive and he held up his hands in a silent plea for forgiveness._

 _"_ _Cor, of course we do. Business and so on, yeah? Not going to make our lady wait whilst one of us has to mind the shop." With a chuckle, the other wizard continued. "Now, with you lot? Erm, not wanting to pry overly, but are you and Harry . . .?"_

 _"_ _Yeah."_

 _"_ _That's a true triad, then. So, yeah. You'll want to talk about that kind of thing before anyone starts feeling bad. And if you do start feeling that way? Get the pair of them together with you in the nearest empty classroom and slog it out if you can. Don't let it sit, yeah?"_

 _"_ _Got it. Merlin, this is complicated," Neville had said on a sigh, reaching for a biscuit without thinking._

 _George smirked. "It really is. But so worth it."_

 _Neville's hair turned a bright pink for about half an hour, making George laugh so hard that Angelina turned up to find out what had happened. She just shook her head. "Longbottom, I thought you had more brains than that."_

 _"_ _Distracted," Neville said to excuse his foolishness._

 _Angelina merely grinned her famous, dimpled grin at him before dropping a kiss to George's head and whispering something in his ear. "And don't you forget it," she added loudly as she left the room._

 _"_ _Scary, she is," George whispered loudly. "Just like Hermione, I'd wager. Any girl that can face a dragon is one to be reckoned with."_

 _"_ _Absolutely."_

Neville cleared his throat. "So we need to talk and figure stuff out before going to Minerva, I think. We should have a, well, a—"

"A plan," Hermione stated with a firm nod.

"And options, just in case," Harry added.

Neville could only agree.

* * *

The owls flew in through the charmed window just at the evening meal. Not as many as there often were for the usual morning mail, there were still enough owls of many sizes, colors, and flight patterns to cause something of a stir as they began divesting themselves of their identical burdens.

" _Witch Weekly_!"

The identity of the publication was first whispered, then spoken of at a regular volume as papers shuffled snapped all over the Great Hall. Neville leaned over to look at Hermione's copy.

 ** _Severus Snape: Hero of Hallowe'en!_**

 _He's Single, Witches!_

 _The Life of a Spy!_

 _What IS the Potion Master's favorite potion?_

 _What does his Amortentia smell like?_

 _Get ALL the juicy details this week!_

And there, on the cover, was an image of Severus that looked almost Muggle in the absence of motion.

"Who did his styling for the cover?" Hermione whispered.

As one, the three of them—Neville, Hermione, and Harry—all looked at Severus. As did every single person in the Hall. In contrast to the cover photo, Severus at breakfast wasn't looking directly at anyone. And his cheeks, normally pale, were flushed darkly enough that Neville believed even the students farthest away could see the color. The man in person was draped in his customary black, with only a thin edging of perfect white showing at his collars and cuffs. The man in the image, in contrast, looked rather more . . . rakish. White shirt open at the collar, a Slytherin-green waistcoat, his wand held provocatively in his hand, and the man himself was all but smoldering at the camera.

Harry blew out an audible breath. "Well. Better him than me."

Severus rose to his feet as the whisperings grew louder and, after a scornful gaze directed at Harry, of all people, left the Great Hall.

Neville suppressed a chuckle. "I wonder if he'll establish a mail ward or if the magazine is taking care of his fan mail, now?"

Hermione's eyes were wide and dancing. "Merlin!" Then, she nodded to herself, closed her copy of _Witch Weekly_ , and spoke to the air in front of her. "Harry's got rounds tonight, but do you want to meet in mine afterward?"

"What about before-ward?" Neville asked, trying to make it a bit of a joke.

She tilted her head to look at him. "Of course, Nev. You're always welcome. You know that."

Harry got to his feet. "Right then. I'll see you both later. And we can plan."

"Right."

Harry clapped him on the shoulder, just as he did to Hermione, before he left the Head Table. Neville watched him go, admiring the way he could hold himself with such confidence, even when starry-eyed young girls approached him with—Neville was sure—quickly-fabricated needs to meet with him about their Defense lesson. Harry addressed each one, leaving the girls a bit downcast but nodding, before he left the Hall altogether.

"He's still quite popular," Hermione remarked with a smirk.

Neville grinned at her. "Well, yeah. Have you seen his eyes?"

She blushed, bit her lip, and nodded. "Oh, yeah. And those hands!"

"I know!"

Neville laughed and placed an oh-so-appropriate arm over the back of her chair. "Is it okay? Weird? Anything?"

"What?"

"Are you _listening_ to us?"

Her cheeks attained a pretty shade of pink. "It's fine and yes, of course. I, I will tell you, Protector Longbottom, that I am . . . happy for you. For us. I think. It's just not going to be easy."

He sighed and tugged on her braid. "I know. I found a book on the Life Debt thing, if you want to read it."

"Yes!" She darted a look around his torso, as if he were hiding in it a pocket or something.

With a laugh, he stood and did indeed bring out the thin, leather-bound volume. "Here it is, love. Figured you'd want it. _Finite_ ," he murmured.

"Wandless," she whispered. "That's quite attractive, Neville."

He cleared his throat playfully and drew her to her feet before presenting her with the book. "I thought you rather liked my wand?"

"Neville!"

"See you later?"

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

"I had no idea she'd have drawn up a flowchart," was Harry's first comment upon joining them at half-ten that evening.

Neville grinned from his spot on Hermione's small sofa and pulled her close under one arm. "You know our girl."

"I'm learning!" Harry crossed the room, toed off his shoes, and kissed Hermione first, then Neville himself.

Neville relished the scent of his body near his throat, the feel of his lips, the way that Hermione nuzzled his neck at the same time. "Well, good," she said. "We missed you."

Harry eyed her closely, a smile in his eye. "Is that a hickey there, Professor Granger?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying, Professor Potter."

Neville tugged him down to his other side. "I do. Jealous?" He tossed that out mostly as a jest, but also to check for reaction. When Harry demonstrated an overplayed show of envy, going so far as to tint his own skin a bit green, they all laughed softly.

"Not in the least. Not really. Though I can see we might have to address something about that at some point, seeing as how you brought it up."

Hermione gasped and Neville could feel her fingers tighten on his thigh. "I thought we were okay."

"We are!" Neville and Harry assured her simultaneously. Neville took one of his hands and squeezed it.

She relaxed a bit and nodded. "Right, then. So, the flowchart." She pointed her wand at it and whispered something Neville didn't catch under her breath. "First, we come to an agreement. The goal, as I understand it," she went on, her voice becoming less firm, "is to be a, a triad, yes?"

"Yes," Neville affirmed, as did Harry. "A permanent one," Neville added.

"Legally, if we can manage it," Harry said.

Hermione blushed but nodded. "Right. Then, that is what I have at the end of the flowchart. One possible outcome, anyway." She glanced at each of them and shifted a bit on the sofa. "So, we go to McGonagall first because if we're going to be adults about this, we shouldn't have to sneak around." Her voice broke a bit as she said, "I'm rather tired of having to be hidden."

Neville reassured her the best way he knew how, and Harry moved quickly to kneel at her feet, embracing her about the waist with his head in her lap. The two of them exchanged a look of satisfaction, as they had calmed their witch together.

"I see Gran's name on there," Neville said to redirect.

"We have to see her. I, I'd like her approval, Nev. She's important to me."

"Me as well. And then, you have that one diamond-shaped box off to the side."

"Oh, that."

Harry spun around and looked up as Hermione enlarged the box in question on the white board—a Muggle creation she had taken to using in her classes. "The Life Debt."

"I gave her a book," Neville mentioned.

"Right. And what I found, Harry, was a bit worrisome." She tucked her wand behind one ear and took Harry's hands in hers, kneeling next to him on the floor. "The Life Debt is not like a soul-bond or any magical partnership requirement, so you aren't obligated to be with me. You know that, right?"

Harry nodded slowly. "It hasn't felt like that, no. It's more like a, well, a bookmark. Reminding me of you and your place in my life all the time. That I, I _owe_ you, Hermione Granger. And that bookmark won't go away until I have paid you back in a manner you deem acceptable."

"That's what I read. _Accio, De Vita Debes_!" Neville smiled as the small volume flew across the room to her hand.

"That was wandless," he remarked, in conscious echo of her earlier comment to him. "That's quite attractive, Hermione."

Harry just blinked. "Nice. Right, then. So, what did you find?" He pointed to the book.

She opened the book and removed a worn ribbon with a golden G embroidered on it. The edges of the ribbon were frayed, the G was looking more brown than the gold that Neville remembered it had been when they'd been in second year and she'd received the ribboned bookmarks for her thirteenth birthday. "It means that I have to specifically, in so many words, acknowledge when you have performed a service for me that holds the value of your life in my eyes." She took a breath and flicked her tongue over her lips. "Harry . . . what if I can't do that? What if I don't see how anything you could possibly do for me could be valued as much as your presence in my life again?"

Neville felt this throat close a bit to hear the emotion in her voice. Hermione was an emotional woman, but she was also largely controlled in front of most people. She had had to be, over the years. But here, she was speaking from her heart and was clearly confused. Neville didn't know what to say to ease her confusion, either. The Life Debt was just between her and Harry and he had no part in that.

Was he jealous about that?

 _No, no I'm not_.

Harry brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Well, then, I guess I'll just keep your bookmark in my mind, love. I don't mind being indebted to you, if you're worried about that." His smile was wry, but Neville could see its sincerity. "Who knows, maybe you'll trip and fall down the stairs and I'll catch you and we'll know it's paid."

Neville was pretty sure it wouldn't be that simple, but he hoped it wouldn't interfere in their relationship. What if Hermione wanted . . . something, anything, and only Harry could give it to her?

Freedom? A life outside of England? A family?

What if he, Neville, couldn't give her any of that and it turned out she wanted those things? _Needed_ them? He wouldn't be able to blame her, not for a moment. Her life had been so circumscribed for so many years . . .

"Nev? You okay, mate?"

Neville shook himself a bit and tried to smile at Harry's upturned face. Hermione had moved to make adjustments to the flowchart, with bunch of animated lines around the box that said _Talk to Minerva about Living Arrangements_ , so Neville moved to invite Harry to rejoin him on the sofa. "I am. Just thinking, is all."

"Not worried about coming out, then? To Minerva?"

Neville could honestly say, as he cupped the back of Harry's neck, "Merlin, no. I can't wait to tell everyone. How permanent do you want to make this? Hermione's already got us living together," he reminded him with a nod at their witch at her white board. "It doesn't bother me, of course."

"Right. She'd be Lady Longbottom if you'd had your way last year." With a rueful expression, Harry pressed his forehead to Neville's own. "And if, if that's what she needs, you know? I can do that. For the Debt."

A frozen hand gripped Neville's heart. "No. Don't even think it. She doesn't want that. Not without you."

"So when do we talk to Minerva, then?" Hermione called from across the room. She smiled at the pair of them and Neville tried to smile back. "I daresay she'd object to us fire calling her right now."

"We'll ask for an appointment in the morning," Neville decided.

Harry beckoned to Hermione and she crossed to them. As one, Neville and Harry pulled her down to their laps. "Don't think she'll be even remotely surprised," Harry opined as he slid his hand over Hermione's stomach and found Neville's hand.

Their woman hummed. "No . . . she's got her eyes open, to be sure."

Neville ducked his head to nuzzle Hermione's throat. "And ears."

"Indeed." She hummed again as Harry brought their joined hands to her breasts. "But, remember, she will not want us behaving inappropriately in front of the students."

"Hermione?" Neville murmured against her skin, breathing in her heightened personal scents. "There are no students about right now."

"Right."

The meeting with Minerva, Neville decided as he and Harry left Hermione's quarters some time later, could not come soon enough for him.

* * *

 _A/N: The information on triad jealousy issues that George is sharing was actually taken from a website: morethantwo. com */ jealousy-insecurity. h t m l. There are many theories on poly-relationship jealousy, but I chose this approach as it felt most comfortable for me._

 _I do have a sneak peek for the next chapter, which should **not** take so long to get to you! (I have been drafted, though, into a writing/researching type of job recently, which is taking up a good bit of my brain.) So cast the revealing charm, **Aparecium**! Remember, it only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs. _

_My eternal gratitude to **Katmom** , who is my friend whether I'm mildly maiming an aging Viking or whether I'm having group snogging sessions...fictionally, of course. She's an amazing woman._


	14. First Steps into a Wider World

_A/N: Welcome to any new readers as well as all faithful followers. I so appreciate hearing from you_ _! Take some of what Minerva gets in this chapter and share it 'round. :) I was tickled that Hermione's flowchart was a hit as well as Severus Snape's cover of_ Witch Weekly _. Poor fellow, to be so admired._

 _My thanks to **Katmom** for her support and cheerleading. She's also a wonderful artist and I have a new painting from her in my home. It makes me smile. _

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

 **FIRST STEPS INTO A WIDER WORLD**

Hermione pressed her hand to her chest as she uttered the password to the Headmistress's Office on Friday night. She'd marshaled all her ideas, lined them up for an orderly presentation, decided a little emotional appeal would not go amiss, and she'd even brought a bottle of Muggle whisky. Ardbeg Uigeadail (*), from the Isle of Islay. It was highly regarded and, she had learnt from classmate Seamus Finnegan, an excellent "sweet, smoky finish". Whatever that meant.

Up the stairs she went, adjusting her expression. The plan was for her to arrive first, followed by Harry and Neville, so that it wouldn't be—Harry thought—too overwhelming.

 _"Having all three of us show up all at once with, well, what we want to talk to her about could be a bit much, Hermione," he'd said after Minerva had granted them an hour of her time. "Let's do a little at a time and then we'll all be together, yeah?"_

 _"I trust your plans, Harry."_

 _His smile had been warm and sweet. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."_

"Minerva," she called as she pushed open the heavy oak door with its ancient iron hinges. "Thank you for seeing us."

Minerva McGonagall was nearing her seventieth birthday, Hermione knew, but the older witch had always worn her years well. This evening, her white-streaked hair was pulled into a rather severe bun, but no pointed hat was in evidence. Outer professorial robes were hanging from a coatrack near her desk, and the lady herself was in the process of pouring tea from a pot that had been heating on a small brazier. "Tea?"

"Ah, thank you. And I brought you this," Hermione said, stepping further into the office, nervous but trying not to let that show.

Minerva smirked a bit. "Bribes, Hermione?"

Hermione tried not to blush too obviously. "I am not the bribing sort, ma'am."

"True. Well, come in, my dear." She held up a cup with a pattern of minute, hand-painted flowers around the rim of both the cup and its matching saucer. "Sugar and milk are here, of course. And thank you for the whisky!" She took the bottle with interest, saying its name aloud in a proper accent, Hermione noted. "Well, now. I haven't seen this in many years." Green eyes twinkled and Hermione was suddenly struck by how many of her closest companions had green eyes. _How very singular_. After placing the bottle on her desk, Minerva took her own cup of tea and settled in the red-upholstered chair in front of the desk. "Please allow me to be a bit informal, though you and Potter and Longbottom did ask for a meeting, my dear."

"Of course, ma'am." Hermione sipped at her tea and her nerves started to jangle as she wondered where Harry and Neville were. "Yes, see, we had a question or two for you."

"I imagine so. Oh," she said, eyeing the door. "Here they are. I think. Come in."

Hermione half-turned to see Neville entering the room, also bearing a gift. Hermione met his gaze with her own wide eyes. He'd brought a pot with a beautiful flower that seemed quite amazing to see during this time of year. "Hello, Minerva," Neville said, sounding much more at ease than Hermione felt. "I finally managed to make it bloom in our greenhouses."

"Gracious!" The headmistress said, rising to her feet in clear surprise. "Is that the, no, really? Pasqueflower?" She extended one finger to almost touch a velvety looking petal in a color that Hermione could only consider to be this side of lush purple.

" _Pulsatilla vulgaris_ it is. Took me a while, but I managed."

"Magic in the soil here can help, as I understand it," Minerva remarked, gently taking the pot from Neville and eyeing the flower. "I've read that some consider this the, well, the supermodel of the floral world here in Scotland."

Neville chuckled a bit and left her with the plant whilst he got a cup of tea and joined Hermione in a stiff oak chair. "Well?" he whispered.

"I can hear you," Minerva interjected, still admiring the plant as she set it next to the whisky on her desk. "Animagus, remember."

Neville blushed. "Sorry. It's just that we—"

Minerva held up one hand. "You're waiting for Potter, and he's just arrived. Come in!"

When Harry entered the office, also bearing a gift in one hand, Hermione felt the laugh just sort of push from her and she had to set her teacup down. "Harry! You, too?"

Minerva smilingly rose to her feet and indicated the tea with a nod of her head and a chair with her hand as she took Harry's offering from him. "Godric's Boots! It's my—Potter! Where did you get this?"

 _This_ was a ribbon, about the length of a teaspoon, in Gryffindor's red with golden embroidery around the edges, as well as a stylized "MM" in the same shining, golden thread. "Er, Sirius had it, ma'am," Harry said, somehow sounding like a fifth year student caught out past curfew. "He thought perhaps you'd like it back?"

Minerva looked about to say something but then, she eyed each of them in turn and Hermione couldn't help the slight tremor in her fingers as the sharp green gaze narrowed on her. At length, Harry claimed his tea and sat down in the same row as Hermione and Neville.

After some minutes spent in tense silence, the headmistress set down her cup and saucer. "I would endeavor to begin with casual conversation, you three, but as it's late and as I am rather overwhelmed by the variety of gifts you've brought me . . ." She cleared her throat and regarded each of them as if they had all been brought in to answer for some wrongdoing.

Hermione felt her old habits surface. "I didn't know they'd be bringing you something as well, Minerva, honestly."

"Nor I," Neville said, smoothly Levitating his cup to the desk and sitting in a manner that Hermione only wished she could adopt at the moment. "We did want to talk to you, all three of us, and I guess we were all thinking the same thing."

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I told Sirius we would be here and he suggested returning that ribbon might, well . . ."

"Butter me up like a sweet scone?"

"Maybe?" Harry took Hermione's cup from her nerveless fingers and she briefly marveled that he knew to do so.

She clasped her empty hands together and swallowed. "I've reviewed the rules and such for the teaching staff. And we all decided we needed to see you first."

Minerva's lips twitched. "About?"

Harry rubbed his hands on his thighs. "Us."

"The three of us," Neville added.

"We're—" Hermione stopped and checked left and right to make sure Neville and Harry were ready for this. At their silent nods, she inhaled quickly through her nose. "We're dating."

She held out her hands, one to each of her men, and waited for the reaction.

Headmistress McGonagall made them mark time for an eternity while the portraits around the office shifted and seemed to pass tokens along from one portrait to the next. Hermione wondered if she was imagining that, since no one else was remarking upon it.

"The portraits _do_ talk," Minerva said at length, radiating a smug satisfaction that baffled Hermione. "And they're incorrigible gossips."

Hermione felt her face all but go up in flames. "Oh."

"Oh," echoed Neville.

"Ah." Harry got to his feet and moved to stand behind and between Hermione and Neville. "So you knew already."

"I knew already. And you can tell your godfather that he owes me for twenty-five years of keeping my lucky ribbon from me."

"I'll tell him, ma'am."

"Right then. So. The three of you, eh? That would be a conundrum, yes."

"But, Minerva—!"

The older witch held up a hand. "No, there is no stricture against dating between staff members as long as there is no inappropriate behavior or obviously _sexual_ banter between said staff members in front of the students or in public areas," Minerva said, as if reciting the handbook verbatim. "However, you are considered to be on duty as you live here, and as you are not married, there is no provision for, er, amorous activities in your private quarters since the students can find you, there." She leaned back in her chair and regarded them for another moment. "Neville," she said, her tone softer as she spoke in a more familiar manner. "Hermione. You have always behaved with the utmost decorum here at Hogwarts, even as you were dating. As students _and_ as professors. Harry," she continued, "you have given me no cause for alarm. However, there is a certain, well, mature sort of connotation with a triad that doesn't exist with a couple. Which is why we have married staff, whether married to someone of the same sex or the opposite, and they have their own quarters. Their behavior is sanctioned, therefore, in the Staff Handbook as well as by society."

Neville nodded and Hermione saw that he reached across his body to press the hand Harry had on his shoulder. "So, if we married, all three of us, we could conceivably live here in the castle?"

"Again, if it were just two of you? Yes, of course. You know that."

"It is legal to have a married triad, Minerva," Hermione ventured to say. She felt a bit desperate, really, and her mind was racing as to what to do, next. Would they lose their jobs? Would parents pull children from the school?

The older witch nodded, but her face was not in agreement. She appeared as if she had spiders in her bodice or something, Hermione thought. "It is, but, we have to consider our reputation."

Harry made an explosive, derogatory sound. "I owe Hermione a Life Debt, ma'am. And she is a Protected Member of House Longbottom. For the honor of our Houses, Neville's and mine, as well as Hermione's reputation as she is able to pursue interests outside of Hogwarts, a legal marriage can't possibly be problematic."

All of a sudden, Hermione realized that they'd gone from "We're dating" to "Polyandrous Marriage" right in front of Minerva without having discussed the latter amongst themselves. She pushed herself to her feet and held up a hand, much as Minerva was wont to do. "Wait. Minerva, we're not getting married right now. We just wanted to tell you we're dating and see if we needed to observe any further regulations for our continued, erm, intimacy?"

"In the castle?" Minerva rubbed her forefinger between her eyebrows and muttered something indistinct. "It would be vastly easier if you didn't live in the castle, to be honest. I have no problem with your relationship, but the tensions and possible issues with the Board would be much less if your workaday interactions remained as blameless as they now are and your, well, dating moments? Dating moments took place off campus entirely."

Hermione blinked and drew in a long breath. "So we'd get kicked out? For dating?"

Harry sighed. "Sirius said that might be the case."

"Could have let us know in advance, Harry," Neville said, sounding a bit bitter. "Right, then. If we were, Minerva, to move to Hogsmeade, we'd have to renegotiate our contracts, wouldn't we?"

"Stars above!" The headmistress leveled a look at each of them again. "Are the three of you truly ready to make that kind of a commitment?"

"I could live off campus, with my godfather and Remus," Harry offered. Hermione felt him tugging on her hand and the three of them turned to face one another, temporarily leaving Minerva out of their discussion.

Hermione flickered her fingers. " _Muffliato_. Is this what we want?" she asked immediately. "Harry, we'd miss you. Maybe I could go," she suggested, feeling a surge of excitement within her breast. "I've not been able to live on my own, like, ever. I don't have a manor or—"

"No," but of her men said in one breath.

She opened her mouth to list reasons that it would be a good idea, but Neville brushed his thumb along her jaw. "Love. I can't imagine how eager you are to, well, get out of here, but we don't know if there are still blood purists out there eager to make a name for themselves."

"I can ward—"

"Hermione," Harry murmured, taking one of her hands in both of his and focusing intently on her face, "I'm almost the first one who wants you to be able to have some, some space. To live, to breathe, to get out of the castle." He laughed a little. "But I'm with Nev, here. Now," he went on, "if you want to live out of the castle with one of us…?" He winked and brought her hand to his lips to kiss it before letting it go. "I'd be all for that, though I think the Board might take issue with professors living together without being married."

"It's so Victorian!" she protested.

Neville shrugged and slung an arm around each of them, bringing them even closer together under the protection of the muffling charm. "That shouldn't come as any surprise, love. Now, Harry, if you live with Sirius, will he have any problem with your having the occasional, er, guest?"

Harry blushed. "Not a problem, no, but I couldn't guarantee a prank-free environment."

Hermione felt herself stiffen at the thought. "I spent years with the Weasley Twins in the same common room; I don't want to deal with any more of that." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Minerva rising from her chair. "Look, we need to decide. I, I like us. I want to be with you both."

"I'll find a place in town," Neville volunteered. When Harry made as if to protest, Neville shook his head. "If you go, Sirius and Remus will want to know why you aren't living with them. If I go, it'll be less exceptional."

"What about your Gran?" Hermione asked softly, placing a hand in the middle of his chest.

He shrugged. "I'll just tell her that we wanted some privacy to pursue our relationship. And Harry, as soon as we can arrange it, we'll all go to the manor and visit. All right?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged a careful look with one another and nodded before Hermione canceled the Muffliato. As one, the three turned to meet Minerva's impatient half-glare. "Sorry, ma'am," Hermione murmured. "We just wanted to hash that out."

"And?"

Hermione reached for Neville's right hand, Harry his left. She said, "We would never want to cause a problem with the Board, Minerva."

"So, I'll find a flat in Hogsmeade. Or maybe a cottage," Neville told the headmistress. "I can still perform all the duties of my position, including rounds. If you'd permit me, I can use the Floo in your office to get home in the evenings or just Apparate to the gates."

Hermione was rather impressed that he'd thought so far ahead and she smiled at him. The portraits on the walls of the office were all apparently standing and leaning against their frames, as if they were avidly interested in the goings-on, even now. Professor Dumbledore was the only one who was still seated, sucking on a painted sherbet lemon. There was a low susurration of whispering during all of this, and Hermione wondered just how many painted spies reported to Minerva on a regular basis.

"Well," the older woman said at length, "I can't fault you. Nor stop you. But I will caution you to be careful, the three of you." Then, her demeanor relaxed—as much as Minerva McGonagall ever relaxed, anyway—and she clasped her hands loosely in front of her. "I wish you all the best. You deserve it. And yes, Professor Longbottom, you may use the Floo in my office." And after thanking them again for the gifts they'd brought, she ushered them out of her office.

Hermione felt a bit lightheaded as she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase. Harry had gone ahead of her and had his hand out to take hers. Neville was behind her and he darted a look around to ascertain that the corridor was empty before he quickly drew them both in for a quick embrace.

"We did it," he murmured.

"We did," Hermione agreed.

Harry sighed. "I feel bad that you're going to move out, though."

"Will we still have tea?" Hermione wondered, trying to be positive.

"As often as possible," Neville assured her.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm crying," Hermione murmured into Neville's chest two weeks later. They were in Minerva's office and Neville had, kindly, asked the portraits to give them a few minutes' privacy. Harry was in Hogsmeade already, with Sirius and Remus for the evening, and would be staying until it was time for him to monitor the rounds. "I hope you and Harry have a good time setting up your cottage." She tried not to sound petulant. Truly.

Neville pressed her closely against him. "Stop or I'll be doing it, as well."

That made her smile and she looked up at him through watery eyes. "You? Never."

"I'm sorry you couldn't join us today." He bent to nuzzle her under her left ear and she sighed as she kissed his throat above the collar of his robes. "I'll miss you. So will Harry."

"Kiss him for me," she said, picturing that in her mind and biting her lip while a flare of heat surprised her and took her melancholia away. "You can do more, you know . . .?"

"Not without you."

"But you can! There's no Protocols for the two of you or—"

"Hermione." Neville held her a bit away and Hermione missed the heat of him. "We won't until we can all be together. Appropriately." They shared a chuckle. "Even if we can't, well, activate the Protocols, we can still . . ."

She loved that his face turned pink as she watched. "We can still . . . yes."

"You and Harry could, you know, if—"

She shook her head. "No. No Protocols, but—Merlin, we're going to have to figure that out as well, aren't we?"

"Not tonight. I've got to go, but . . ." She let him pull her close again and slide his hands up her back and down again to cup her bum. "Think about it. Harry and I are all on board with flowcharts or diagrams or whatever you want. Give us a plan, Hermione, and we'll make it happen. For all of us."

The offer took her breath away even as she wanted to melt right at his feet. "Harry's the planner, and you're . . . you know all the rules, Nev."

"We'll work on it, all right? But you start and we'll modify, how's that?"

"Right. Plan . . . activating the Protocols?" She frowned. "But what about Harry? I want him to be with us."

"Well, give us alternate plans, then." He grinned into her eyes. "They can even be color-coded."

"Oh, you!" But she could imagine such flowcharts, such ideas, and the imagining of them got her . . . rather warm.

She was applying a cooling charm as Neville tossed a pinch of powder into Minerva's Floo and called, "Herbologist House!" And in a breath, he was gone in a flare of green flame.

"Miss Granger, is it safe to come back, now?" Albus Dumbledore appeared in his portrait and spread his arms wide to indicate his fellow former Heads of Hogwarts.

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you all for your kind forbearance."

"Not at all, my dear. I am always a supporter of true love, no matter what guise it wears."

With a wry smile, she nodded her head toward him. "I don't suppose you'd include that as an endorsement in the event there is any backlash?"

"I daresay you're being careful enough, my dear. We, all of us, wish you well."

After a parting glance at the cold fireplace, Hermione stepped out of the office, pulling an envelope from a pocket as she did so.

 _Dear Miss Granger, (the missive began)_

 _Pursuant to your inquiry, and in light of recent events, we would be interested in meeting with you to discuss your publication proposals. Unlike my famous ancestress, Headmistress Elizabeth Burke, this Elizabeth has no wish to promote the pretensions of pure-blood superiority. Neither, indeed, does the editorial staff of Flourish and Blotts. _

_Please send word by owl as to an acceptable meeting time. I am able to come to Hogwarts if it is more convenient with your schedule._

 _Most cordially,_

 _Elizabeth Burke_

 _Developmental Editor_

 _Flourish and Blotts, Publishers._

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Good first steps? Well, careful, anyway. :)_

 _(*) = Ardbeg Uigeadail. I found this on The Whisky Exchange website: thewhiskyexchange dot com. I also looked up the pattern for the teacup given to Hermione, as well as the plant from Neville. Research is one of my favorite things. The ribbon? Entirely imaginary._

 _This story is an epilogue, of sorts, for the most part. I mean, in its purpose and entirety. I hope that by the end of it (which isn't yet!) you will feel there is a happy ending. For a peek into the next chapter, cast the revealing charm: **Aparecium**! Remember, it only works if you are signed in and accepting PMs!_


	15. Twos

**A/N:** _Hello and welcome back to all my favorite people. :) Please, pull a pint of whatever makes you smile and put your feet up. Greetings, too, to anyone just joining us. This is called LJ Writing As She Goes, which is a lot harder, actually, than writing it all out and posting it when I'm finished. Still, it's served a purpose and I'm still working on it. My thanks to everyone who is reading and adding this story to their lists. So very kind of you! And a special dram of the good stuff to **Katmom** for being there. _

_Do not be dismayed by the chapter title - this is totally a triad story._

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

 **Twos**

Kissing Neville was a different experience, Harry concluded, than kissing Hermione.

"She said to kiss you for her," Neville had murmured about two seconds before taking possession of Harry's mouth. "I mean to do it right."

He'd been taken a bit by surprise, Harry had, as he'd been putting books onto the bookshelves in Neville's cottage that evening. Herbologist House, as it was now, was the sort of place that Harry felt was quintessentially English. There was a kitchen garden, a flagstone walk, a neat and tidy fence, two chimneys, red shutters and a blue door. The rooms were small, warm against the late-November chill, and if the walls were a bit bare, and the furnishings sparse, there was no shortage of greenery. Plants in small pots were everywhere.

But as Neville pressed Harry against the living room wall—next to a dark shelf half-filled with books, Harry was only aware of the herbologist himself. Neville's scent at the moment was part tea, part earth, mixed with a heavy sort of scent that Harry found a bit intoxicating. He had to taste the man, so he did, moving and licking along Nev's jaw and down his throat a bit, feeling himself go hard when Neville made some sort of feral sound in his chest.

"Merlin, Harry." Neville tilted his head, and—after half a moment to adjust his growing arousal—Harry allowed himself to taste to his content. Salt, heat, the rushing pulse under his lips and tongue was so . . . amazing. With another of those deep sounds, Neville pressed himself fully against Harry's hips, which made Harry gasp and lose his train of thought entirely.

"Fuck," he whispered, unable to stop the reciprocating motion of his own body.

Neville's soft laugh surprised him, but they didn't stop what they were doing. "No, not tonight. Though she said we could . . ."

Still softly grinding against the other man, Harry still joined him in that bit of amusement. "Oh? Does she want to watch us?" The mere image of that got him even harder and, feeling that, Neville pushed more decidedly against him. Harry tucked his head in at Neville's throat, giving himself over to the rhythm, the building power of an incipient orgasm. Imagining Hermione leaning near them eyes half-lidded and lips parted as she watched them . . . hearing her start to pant as Neville called out, in a hoarse, breathless way—

"Harry! I'm, I'm—! Aaahhhh!" Triumph sort of exploded in Harry's mind and chest for a moment and he shifted to capture Neville's nearly silent sounds in his own mouth, feeling them, gripping the other man tightly.

And then, he followed, his own release silent but no less intense for all that. Heart still pounding, he pulled his head back a bit and dragged in a ragged breath. "Merlin."

"I know," Neville said on a gasp. "But I have a confession to make, Harry."

"What?"

"I was, I was imagining Hermione was with us—is that all right?"

Grinning in mild relief, Harry nodded and moved to cup Neville's jaw in one hand, enjoying the rough stubble and how it was surprisingly stimulating. "I was doing the same thing, so we must be doing it right, yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Harry sighed and studied the group of fifth years the following Friday afternoon. This was always a hard hour for him, as the students were restless, no matter the weather. Snow had fallen the night before, though, and everyone wanted to go out and play in it Even those who would be taking their O.W.L.s that year. This was not conducive to a studious environment, as Hermione might say.

"Everyone on your feet."

It was a Gryffindor group and Harry wondered—as he often did—how he himself would have managed on a more traditional educational round. His own studies had been advanced, fast-paced, but not nearly as methodic in their acquisition. These kids in front of him were not, though, preparing to fight a egomaniacal wizard of deadly power and few inhibitions.

"How many of you are planning on taking Advanced Defense next year?" Hands went up around the room; only two of the Gryffindors were bold enough to indicate they weren't here for the long haul. "Right, then. I know that everyone wants to escape for the weekend, so do I!, but we have to get through the Counter-jinxes in practice today. Then," he added, flicking his wand above his head, "you'll be dismissed to hit the white stuff." Spelled "white stuff" filtered down from the ceiling for a moment. Not true snow, but an illusion of it.

It was enough to make the boys laugh and the girls twirl in small, smiling circles. He let them do so until he counted to sixty. When he sent the illusion away, there was general disappointment, but also a bit less obvious restlessness. "Enough of playing," he informed them, rolling up on the balls of his feet and sweeping his gaze over the room in a slow arc. "To work! Pair up or work in threes if you feel able. You have until I count five to make these groups up yourselves of I'll do it for you." He began to count off, watching the scramble of teenagers as they moved over desks, huddle against a wall, or simply used Shrinking Charms on some of the furniture to gain enough space in which to work.

"Nicely done," he commended a trio of students who had used clever charm work to get some room to work. Then, he flicked his wand. " _Flipendo_!" And the male in the trio fell over solidly. "See? Work on the Counters, now."

After calling them to order at the end of the lesson, he made suggestions to the different pairs and assigned them an essay, horror of horrors. "I want you to analyze what you did today, which Counters you used, and what you could use to better effect next week. Be prepared to demonstrate one of the Counter Jinxes to the class."

Groans followed this and he didn't even try to hide his grin as the students slung book bags over their shoulders and hurried out of the classroom.

Exhaustion unexpectedly washed over him at that moment and he realized that on some days? Teaching was hard work. He inhaled deeply feeling the muscles in his chest expand and relax and he rubbed at his forehead, pressing on certain points to ease the stresses in those muscles as well.

"Professor Potter, you free?"

A smile sort of exploded on his face. "Nev! Hermione! Yes, that was my last class of the week. You?"

Neville stepped into the classroom. "No more lessons, but I've still got rounds tonight."

"And I'm on the rota for breakfast," Hermione added. "And tomorrow night, we are all helping with the Yule Ball planning. The Heads asked us and Severus to be faculty sponsors."

Harry snorted. "All of us?"

Neville blushed a bit. "Well, they came to Hermione first . . . and asked her."

The lady in question leaned against the wall just inside the door to the classroom and cast a quick Muffling charm. "They know about us and I think they're all just super curious."

"How could they even know?" Harry wondered, still enervated from his lesson. He hitched one hip up on his desk at the front of the room. "We have been so careful!"

Neville shrugged one shoulder. "They knew about me and Hermione. We were careful as well."

With a distinct blush, Hermione shook her head. "Not that careful. You know I'd come to your classroom and such and . . ."

Harry could only smile to see both of his loves' faces go pink. "I can imagine. But we've not been that way in any student-accessible area."

"Gossip," the other two said on a breath.

Neville offered him a crooked smile. "So. Yule Ball Committee, tomorrow night after dinner."

Hermione bit her lip and moved away from the wall, tugging Neville by the arm until they were both standing in front of Harry. "Anyone on duty for dinner tonight? I haven't seen Herbologist House since you two got Neville moved and sorted." Her eyes were alight with anticipation, nearly glowing in the afternoon shadows of the classroom.

"Ah," Harry and Neville breathed, their glances meeting for a moment. Neville cleared his throat, a smile in his eyes when he said with studied casualness, "It would seem rather odd for me to be absent from dinner when I'm back for rounds. Especially if the two of you were absent from the same table."

Hermione's hopeful expression crumpled, so Harry tugged on her hand to get her to look at him. "It'd be weird to go there without him, I know, but you could come to mine? After dinner? If you want?"

Nodding, Neville added his encouragement. "You could have . . . tea."

Harry was a bit baffled when Hermione and Neville shared a warm look. He had missed so much, not being with them during their younger years! Small, intimate moments passed between the other two in their triad all the time, inside jokes, references to events that happened years before. He couldn't feel bad that they had them; that would be unreasonable, wouldn't it? But he did . . . feel . . . something. He didn't think it was jealousy, but perhaps he could talk to Hermione about it.

Over tea.

Whatever that meant.

"Tea? Harry would you mind? Having me over for tea this evening?"

After checking with Neville and being reassured by the mischief in the other wizard's eye, Harry nodded. "Sure. Tea." He nodded and found himself fairly certain that "tea" was a euphemism for something . . . rather more interesting.

* * *

"I am stupidly nervous," Harry muttered to himself that evening.

Next to the door, the portrait titled _The Chaser_ made a tutting sound. Harry had, over the past weeks, grown used to the Quidditch player that shared the room with him in this way. The notification portrait hadn't been there in September but had mysteriously appeared just after Hallowe'en. "She's here, mate."

"I'm not your mate," Harry retorted as he wiped his hands on his thighs and crossed to open the door. "Behave."

"Can I watch if I do?"

"Bugger off!"

"Harry Potter!" Hermione's voice reached him through the door and he winced. _The Chaser_ smirked and with a quick nudge of his broom, left the frame.

Harry opened the door after a quick glance to make sure he was ready for tea. It was just past nine and he was ready for tea and biscuits. Water on to boil, there, and he had teacups that Fidget had brought for him that evening. Shortbread and gingersnaps were on small plates and Fidget had brought him a matching creamer and sugar bowl.

"Professor Potter is not entertaining often, Fidget thinks!" the elf had said in admonishment.

At the present, Harry breathed another bit of thanks to the absent elf as Hermione—dressed in a conservative white blouse and dark skirt under her favorite red teaching robes— entered his quarters and smiled with approbation.

"Hello, 'Mione."

She blinked and stared at him a moment. "' _Mione_? Harry . . . I'm not fond of nicknames."

"What about making Neville's name 'Nev'?" he countered, flicking his wand to light candles in their sconces and bring the room a bit of intimacy.

"Oh, you _do_ do that, don't you."

"Don't you?"

"Not often," she confessed softly. "All right, but please don't use that in front of other people? I really—"

"You like your name. I know. Come on, have a sit." He walked her to one of the chairs—there were three—at his small table and offered her a seat.

"This is lovely, Harry," she said, not sitting, but looking about as if noting changes from the first time she'd been there. "Ah, is that where that portrait got to? _The Chaser_ came to Hogwarts just after you left us, you know. No one knows who it is; well, maybe Headmaster Dumbledore might have, but no one else." _The Chaser_ grinned and waved at them, as if happy to be acknowledged, and Hermione smiled a little. "Friendly, isn't he? He was quite a flirt when he was still in the Charms corridor, though!"

That took him by surprise. "A flirt? With children in the corridor?"

She blushed, but was smiling openly at him. In fact, she shrugged out of her outer robes and hung them carefully over the back of a chair before she drew nearer to him and Harry was, all at once, sure that "tea" was indeed a euphemism. She flicked her tongue out over her lower lip before biting it beguilingly and he felt an answering jolt in his groin. "Well, you know, it wasn't like he could do anything and the portraits are spelled not to be in the student towers, of course. No harm was meant by it."

"I guess, I don't remember anything like that, before."

She grinned up at him, her eyes warm and playful. "No flirtatious portraits?"

"None at all, though, honestly, Sirius and Remus flirted enough for five portraits. Especially when I was younger." Suddenly much more at his ease, though warm, he pulled her against his chest. "They learnt to be careful in front of me, but not before I saw rather a lot."

"What did you see?"

"Oh, more than I should have," he admitted, moving his hands to cup her face. "But honestly, love, I'd rather talk about us."

"I'd rather have tea."

He leant down to nuzzle her just under one ear. "Tea? What sort? I did prepare, you know, just in case."

" _Hot_ , Harry. _Hot_ tea."

"I can do hot," he murmured against her skin, breathing in the scents of parchment, lavender, and books. She hummed and he felt the vibration against his lips and it was as if that was the final flick of a complicated spell.

Without further ado, he found her mouth, pressing his thumbs against her jaw until she opened to him. Tasting her, being tasted by her, as her fingers plowed through his hair and his untucked her blouse. Her skin was smooth, heated, and she moved a little against him, brushing against his length that was, thankfully, not in an awkward spot so he could concentrate on her.

Just on her.

"Harry . . ." she breathed as she parted from his lips to drag in air.

"Sofa or bed?" he asked, brushing his fingers up her ribs, feeling the smooth edges of her bra.

She gasped and he froze, feeling a bit of the urgent need back off while he assessed her wishes. She slid her hands down to his shirt, unbuttoning the placket with neat, orderly motions that said nothing of nerves or uncertainty, so he reciprocated. "Sofa. I—I mean, without—"

"Without Nev?"

"Yes. I mean, I'd want it to be all of us."

"Gonna need a bigger bed," he teased, but still he led her, with both of their shirts hanging open, toward the small sofa tucked up near his lone bookcase. He sat down and tugged until she joined him. "But this'll do for now."

"Yes."

And then she was pushing his shirt off his shoulders and they shifted and tugged and moved until she was straddling him, her skirt up around her hips, her top on the floor and her silk-covered breasts in front of his face.

"Hermione . . ." he murmured as she held herself to a space not quite touching him where he really wanted to have her, "are you quite comfortable?"

"Haven't gone this far but the once," she confessed, not quite meeting his eye, but seeming to be fascinated with his hair and then, she bent down and grazed the edge of his ear with her teeth.

"You're killing me," he told her, pushing on her hips to bring her center to his aching erection. She gasped but didn't move away, so he nudged her head over and kissed her some more, relishing in her immediate inclination to rock against him.

"Confession time," he said after a moment.

"Oh?"

He kept up the rhythm their bodies had already found, speaking against her throat. "Neville and I imagined you were with us, you know. The last time we were both at the cottage?"

He felt a shiver go through her body and smiled a little. "That's hot." And then, "I'm kind of wishing he were here now. I'd like . . . like to see that."

"He'd want to watch," Harry said, feeling fairly certain that was true. "It's all right, I think, for you and I to have some memories of our own, yeah?"

"Yeah." And then, she nodded and seemed to come to a decision. "I want to feel you, Harry."

He had to catch his breath. "Pardon?"

She moved, her body pressing even more into his and he groaned—he couldn't help it—as she thrust her breasts forward and unclasped her bra. She let it dangle from one hand and studied his face. "I want to feel you. Skin on skin."

He blew out a breath and slid his hands up her body to cup her breasts. She sighed and rocked against him a bit more enthusiastically and he took the hint to suckle on one, then the other and she started to make the most erotic sounds. And before he knew it, she was crying out, but in such a quiet way, low in her throat, that it made him think she'd had to practice that, the whole idea of nearly silent orgasms.

And that was the final thought for him, that she and Neville had gone this far and had had to be silent _together_. He latched on to her throat and, for the second time in recent memory, came like a teenaged boy in his trousers. And he didn't even care.

Because he knew that, one day soon enough, they'd get this worked out and it would be the three of them. Entirely without trousers.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Hope this worked for you! _

_I fully intend to get all three together! Honest! It just didn't work out in this chapter. And yes, we will get back to some moderately serious matters. We just had to, er, have moments first. That. Yes._

 _I recently got a writing gig out here in the real world so I've been super busy, which is kind of cool, and when I'm allowed to share it, I will do so. Until then, I will do my best to get Harry his very best happy ending. Ahem. Take that any way you like, yeah?_

 _See you soon!_


	16. Yuletide: Part One

**_A/N:_** _So…it wasn't soon. Sorry! My thanks to everyone for your patience! The gig I got was being a co-writer on a new comic book series and writing an early novelization for that as well. Learning how to write for a comic book is a totally different thing. Egads. BUT! I had a great time and will be on board for the next issue as soon as the man in charge of the team has an outline for me._

 _And I've got another new gig, too, which is awesome, but my wand has apparently returned to me and I am going to work very hard at finishing this story before I fall head-first into the new writing project. I have already started on the next chapter, even._

 _ANYway . . . we're back with the triad! Thank you again!_

* * *

 **Where we left off with Harry and Hermione . . .**

 _She moved, her body pressing even more into his and he groaned—he couldn't help it—as she thrust her breasts forward and unclasped her bra. She let it dangle from one hand and studied his face. "I want to feel you. Skin on skin."_

 _He blew out a breath and slid his hands up her body to cup her breasts. She sighed and rocked against him a bit more enthusiastically and he took the hint to suckle on one, then the other and she started to make the most erotic sounds. And before he knew it, she was crying out, but in such a quiet way, low in her throat, that it made him think she'd had to practice that, the whole idea of nearly silent orgasms._

 _And that was the final thought for him, that she and Neville had gone this far and had had to be silent together. He latched on to her throat and, for the second time in recent memory, came like a teenaged boy in his trousers. And he didn't even care._

 _Because he knew that, one day soon enough, they'd get this worked out and it would be the three of them. Entirely without trousers._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

 **YULETIDE: PART ONE**

It had taken a bit of doing to decide where to hold the Yule Ball Planning Meeting with the Head Boy and Head Girl. The Head Girl was Delphinia Abbott. She was, as her elder sister Hannah had been once upon a time, a Hufflepuff. The Head Boy was a Ravenclaw, and Neville remembered when Elijah Woodhouse was enamored of Hermione Granger, back when she'd been a sixth year and Elijah an ickle firstie. Abbott and Woodhouse had a suite of rooms which sometimes served for meetings, but Neville felt that having professors in there might be seen as intrusive; he wouldn't have cared for it when he had been a student.

So, they were meeting in the greenhouses. "We can discuss the plants and types of pine and mistletoe options whilst there, you know," Hermione had said, "and it's less formal than an empty classroom."

Whilst they waited for the students to make an entrance, though, Hermione informed them that she had news. "Does it have to do with that parchment in your hand?" Neville inquired with a grin. "You've been caressing it so much, I think Harry and I might have cause to be jealous."

Harry's eyes danced as he nodded. "C'mon, tell us."

Hermione held the parchment with its touch-softened corners up so Neville and Harry could see it. "They're inviting me to write for them," she said, excitement ringing in her tone.

A sting sort of hit Neville in the chest. "They? Who's _they_?"

"Flourish and Blotts! Their publishing division!" Hermione bounced up from her chair and rolled even further up on her toes.

Relief rolled into that stinging spot Neville had experienced and he smiled. "Yeah? Writing what?"

Harry snagged the letter from her hand as Hermione paced a bit in the small space Neville had cleared amidst the pine plantings. "Doesn't say here, Nev," the other man informed him after a quick perusal of the letter. "What proposals did you send them, love?"

"Oh!" She paused and pursed her lips, bringing her hands to the wild exuberance of her hair. Neville leaned back in his own chair and enjoyed watching her, even though he was quite curious about what she was thinking and why she had done it without mentioning it to either him or Harry. "Well. I was . . . thinking about a few things, actually." Neville urged her to go on with the conventional rotating hand gesture and she nodded briskly. "Right. First, of course, I want—so very much—to be able to do something outside of Hogwarts." She bit her lip as she met each man's eye and Neville nodded to let her know he understood. She'd been confined for years, after all. "But I've heard from you and others that it might be . . . difficult." Her frown, Neville thought, was quite adorable, considering it was the thoughtful frown and not the angry frown.

Of course, he'd learnt to tell the difference over the years.

"So you're going to write?" Harry asked, shifting forward a bit in his chair and leaning his elbows on his knees. When she said she was, Harry grinned. "What?"

"I want, for one thing, to write a new Muggle-born textbook for students, here."

"Always the educator," Neville commented, crossing his legs. "You'll be brilliant."

"And I wanted to research the question of squibs," she went on to say. "Because I heard from Minerva that the topic was discussed in terms of population concerns for us in Magical Britain. But I know . . ." She sighed and settled back to her chair. "I know that my words won't be heard in the Ministry, so I'm going to take them directly to the people." She wiggled her fingers at Harry, who handed her the parchment once again.

Neville felt his chest warm with his unending appreciation for her. "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

With a half-smile, she shrugged. "I try. Also, you know, if I can work outside of Hogwarts," she went on with a significant look and sweet blush, "that means that there won't be three of us living and working in the castle."

It was as if lightning had split the air of the greenhouse. "Oh," Neville said, the breathy syllable echoed by Harry. "Oh," he said again. It was a shift of perspective, a plan for . . . a future that Neville hadn't seen in so pragmatic a way before, even though he had a cottage in the village. He had thought that they would all work together, handling the looks and pressure and so on, but there she'd made a plan to reduce that kind of stress. Which he understood; her life had to date been stressful enough.

Glances, green and brown, darted about the triangle the three of them made in the greenhouse and Neville felt the urge to just, just, fold them both in his arms and hold them tight. As a promise. As an expression of hope. As a sign of anticipation.

"Professor Longbottom?"

No three-way embrace would be happening, however, as the Head Boy and Head Girl entered the greenhouse. Smiling wryly to himself, Neville called, "We're over here."

Harry stood and held a chair for Miss Abbott and Hermione smiled at the students as he said. "Good to see you. You're quite prompt."

Woodhouse shrugged a bit. "Well, it's a bit out of the way, here, but you can't beat the view." He grinned and sat in a loose-limbed manner. "Or the temperature. Merlin, Professor Longbottom, it's warm and cozy as the Hufflepuff common room."

Neville bit down on a chuckle. "Oh? And when have you been spending time in the sett?" he asked, referring to the common name of a badger's home.

Both students blushed significantly and Harry apparently didn't bother holding back his amusement. "I see! Well, then. Yes, Professor Longbottom wanted everyone to be comfortable."

Hermione tucked her parchment away and the rustling sound garnered the attention of the Head Students. "Professor Granger! You're here!"

With a bemused glance, Hermione assured them she was. Producing a quill, ink, and parchment, she settled herself in her chair as if she were a student still herself. It made Neville smile to see. "Right, then. Yule Ball. Do you have a theme in mind?"

Miss Abbott's eyes sparkled. "I was thinking something historical! Like from when the castle was built! We could all wear—"

"Wait, what?" Mr. Woodhouse lost all appearance of ease and tranquility. "That's not what you said when we—"

Neville did his best to hide his chuckle behind a hand, though he almost lost it when Hermione's bright eyes found his, mirth sparkling in their depths.

Harry—not as attuned to the nuances of life in a boarding school—appeared concerned and shifted his in chair as if to help. "Wait, you two. Can't we find a compromise?" he asked, brows furrowed in concern.

Abbott flung out both arms, brushing against the needles of the nearest evergreen. "He has no sense of history!"

" _She_ has no sense of practicality!" Woodhouse countered, rising to his feet and confronting her, arms akimbo. "Del, come on! You said that a masked ball would be perfect and I agreed with you."

 _Masked ball?_ Harry met Neville's eyes as he mouthed the question.

Neville nodded and then cleared his throat. "Costumes are not required, as you're both aware."

"Indeed. The Yule Ball that took place several years ago was basically a white tie affair," Hermione reminded them, tapping the feather of her quill lightly on the parchment before her. "No need for a row, you two. This is not a season for squabbles."

Neville had to snort at that, which garnered the full attention of both students. Only Miss Abbott, though, was bold enough to speak. "Professor Longbottom? Are you actually disagreeing with Professor Granger?"

Lifting one hand, Neville nodded slowly. "It does happen on occasion."

"Rarely," Hermione asserted.

Harry smilingly shook his head. "It does, though. Professor Longbottom?" A fond sort of light was in Harry's eye and it made Neville—briefly—forget about the students they were meeting with. He was used to Hermione flirting in front of students but Harry was a different matter altogether.

"Professor Longbottom," Hermione said, shooting both Neville and Harry significant looks, "is only wanting to make sure that you give this the attention it deserves. To be honest, the more complicated you make the ball, the more spellwork and time will be required."

Woodhouse took up staring at Abbott once again. She stared right back, and the atmosphere in the greenhouse got a bit . . . warm. Harry looked bewildered, Hermione bemused. She was always most fun when a bit bemused, but Neville couldn't think about that right now; there were students present.

He cleared his throat. "Er, Miss Abbott? Mister Woodhouse?"

The younger people visibly shook themselves and blushed before apologetically resuming their seats. "Sorry, Professors," Delphinia murmured.

Elijah winced and scratched the side of his neck. "Yeah. Sorry. Right then, what?"

"Theme for the Yule Ball," Hermione answered in a very calm manner.

The Heads blew out simultaneous breaths. "You know," the Head Boy said slowly, "I guess just white tie is fine. I mean, we have end of term exams and such."

The Head Girl nodded with rather more enthusiasm than the situation merited. "Professor Granger? What kind of decorating charms were needed for the white tie affair you mentioned and who did the charm work?"

"Professor Flitwick and Headmistress McGonagall supervised the charms and transfigurations," Hermione answered. "But they were assisted by the Heads. So you two should plan what you want done and be prepared to carry it through." She actually grinned. "Another joy of the office."

"Right up there with staying up past curfew to deal with grumpy prefects," Delphinia muttered.

"And meetings with your fellow Head?" Elijah asked, nudging her with the toe of his shoe.

Sure, now, that there _was_ something brewing between the Heads, Neville cleared his throat again. "Right, then. Give, er, Professor Potter, here, your final plan within the week, right? And we'll meet again."

With a flurry of farewells, the students left and Neville allowed himself to half-sprawl in and out of a chair. "So, how long has that been going on?"

Hermione laughed softly. "I had rather though she fancied either—or both!—of you, so I couldn't say."

Neville enjoyed seeing Harry blush and, after a quick look about to assure himself that they really were alone, he beckoned to both of them. "Okay. So we need to make plans as well."

With some scuffling sounds, they maneuvered their seats close to one another, sitting so that their knees were mostly all touching in a small circle. Wordlessly, he asked for their hands and waited for a moment.

"Plans?" Hermione prodded. He'd known she would, so he smiled and she nodded. "Right, then. Well, I guess I imagined we'd be going to your gran's, Nev."

Harry squeezed their hands. "And I thought we'd be able to . . ." When the man blushed, Neville was sure he knew what was coming. "To, erm, stay at your cottage? I mean, at least for a few days. Are any of us scheduled to stay _here_ over the holiday?"

"The cottage?" Hermione's head tilted in what Neville knew to be intrigue. He felt his own face heat as she leaned forward. "Like, all three of us, yeah? Off campus?"

"I was hoping," Harry said, his voice trailing away.

Neville felt his heart start to pound in his chest and that made him feel a bit embarrassed. Just talking about being with them together could get his blood up. Exciting, yes. Exhilarating, in fact. But also disconcerting when they were in one of his favorite places in Hogwarts. "Gran is expecting us, yes. Even you, Harry," he added, nudging the other man with his knee.

With a sharp look, Harry conveyed his surprise. "But will she be expecting us to . . . be together?"

"Not all of us, no," Neville allowed, holding tight to the people he considered his partners. "Though," he went on with a slanted smile, "I'm sure she would be thrilled if I said Hermione was staying _with_ _me_ , with me."

The woman blew out a breath. "Well, I'd feel . . . dishonest if it were just the two of us. I don't want to hide who we are. I'm, I'm rather over hiding. From anything."

"You shouldn't have to," Harry asserted, moving to clasp one of her hands with both of his. "That's why I thought the cottage would be good. Nev?"

He'd been thinking about it, so Neville got Harry's other hand back and spoke after drawing in a loud breath of pine-scented air. "I'm all in favor," he assured the other two, "but if Hermione and I . . . well, she is still a protected member of House Longbottom."

"And I'd be, essentially, betrothed to you."

Harry let out a low whistle and leant back in his chair, his hands slipping out of Neville's and Hermione's reach. "What about me?"

It hurt to hear the flat tone of his voice and Neville felt himself wince but he refused to let the other man just sit there. "Harry. You're with us."

"But how?"

"You're ours. And we're yours," Hermione murmured. "Tell him, Nev." Neville would have, but Hermione just kept going and he had to smile, though he hid it behind one hand as she carried on ahead, her words carving a path in the space that Harry had put between them. "We love you, Harry Potter. And we've been waiting for you for years, whether we knew it or not. And you're here, now, and I don't think we've any plan to let you go."

Harry went all red, then white, then red again but he didn't speak. He just looked to Neville, his mouth open as if he wanted to respond, but no words would come.

"Harry." Neville caught the Quaffle and tried to make it to the hoop. "The twins, remember? They're together with their witch. We'd be with ours. Together. All three. A triad, right?"

"Betrothed? That's, that's not something I'm a part of. It's, it's all yours."

Neville leant toward him. "Why? Why does it have to be when we belong to each other? All of us?"

"Protected member?" Harry retorted, indicating Hermione with the blade of one hand.

"Harry . . ."

"She's also waited . . . for you."

"Nev . . ." Hermione's voice was soft when she spoke, but her actions were determined and before he knew it, Neville found himself enveloped in heavy curls of hair and slender, quick limbs that assured him he was in no way second best to anyone. "I love you," she whispered in his ear, her breath sending a jolt of heat straight through him. "I love you."

The other chair scraped on the floor and Neville immediately stretched out one arm, finding Harry by instinct and pulling him in and, in a heartbeat, the three of them were in a tangle of arms, breaths mingling, soft laughter woven with assurances of love and hope.

At length, Neville had to breathe . . . breathe air that didn't tempt him to abandon all codes of appropriate conduct that even he and Hermione hadn't left behind utterly before. "Wait. Wait."

"I know," Hermione murmured.

"Right," Harry whispered, sounding as if he'd been running for days.

"After the Yule Ball." Hermione met their gazes and Neville nodded. "We'll go to the Manor and then to the cottage." Her look didn't allow for any temporizing and Neville found that he was quite glad of it.

Harry still looked unsure. "And then?"

"And then," Neville said, breathing out slowly, "then we'll make it official."

"Official?"

"Official."

"Then, I want to ask . . ." Harry began, frowning with his forehead but smiling with his lips. "Hermione, I—"

Her hand seemed to fly of its own accord to cover Harry's mouth. "No! Wait! Yule!"

Laughing, they agreed to wait. "But just until Yule," Neville promised.

"Yule," the others echoed.

It was a good enough reason to kiss again. All three of them.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** All right. No promises on the **when** , but do know I'm working on the next chapter. As you can probably guess, the epilogue has almost reached its natural conclusion, yeah? Woohoo! _

_Hope everyone is having a happy and safe 2019!_


	17. Yuletide: Part Two

**_A/N:_** _Hello! Life is so just so everywhere, right now. This chapter has been half-done for months, but I didn't want you to get only half of The Big Night, so I waited until I could finish it. _

_Where I've been: Under contract to a publisher and the book (finished on my end, whew!) will be out this fall, so that's good news. Been reformatting and re-issuing my backlist, as the rest of my work is now under the "self-published" category. Paperbacks can take a bit of work, let me tell you! And, of course, family stuff._

 _But! I am going to finish this story and I think there's only one chapter left to go in the Epilogue to this Harry Potter AU. :)_

* * *

 ** _From Yuletide, Part One:_**

 _"_ _After the Yule Ball." Hermione met their gazes and Neville nodded. "We'll go to the Manor and then to the cottage." Her look didn't allow for any temporizing and Neville found that he was quite glad of it._

 _Harry still looked unsure. "And then?"_

 _"_ _And then," Neville said, breathing out slowly, "then we'll make it official."_

 _"_ _Official?"_

 _"_ _Official."_

 _"_ _Then, I want to ask . . ." Harry began, frowning with his forehead but smiling with his lips. "Hermione, I—"_

 _Her hand seemed to fly of its own accord to cover Harry's mouth. "No! Wait! Yule!"_

 _Laughing, they agreed to wait. "But just until Yule," Neville promised._

 _"_ _Yule," the others echoed._

 _It was a good enough reason to kiss again. All three of them._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

 **YULETIDE: PART TWO**

"And let's hear some appreciation for Moonlit Madness, our band tonight!" Lee Jordan's nearly-patented Wizarding Wireless Host Voice echoed throughout the Great Hall as the Yule Ball slowed to a close. Hermione smiled in relief and tried to surreptitiously wiggle one foot, then the other. Wizarding charms be damned, there was no way on Earth to make heels comfortable for standing post at a school dance.

 _Muggle Studies Notes_ , she thought as she eyed the last sloppy-but-still-interested dancers. _Getting used to the music of the Wizarding World. Cultural research. Discuss the Weird Sisters, just for starters, and the problems of referencing Muggle pop icons in conversation_.

Delphinia Abbott and Elijah Woodhouse were dancing, leaning with apparent nerves against one another as they made slow circles about the floor. Hermione smiled a little. They'd worked hard, and their efforts were appreciated. She wondered if the pair of them had come to some sort of resolution in their relationship. This would be one reason for the nerves on display before her.

Or it could be more . . . interesting.

"What do you find so amusing, Professor Granger?" a familiar voice whispered over her head.

"Neville," she whispered in answer. "The Heads. They're cute."

She could practically feel his soft laughter as he stood behind her. "They are, aren't they? Care to join them?"

"Sure!" She could ignore aching feet. "Where's Harry?"

"Talking with Severus, by the punch table." Hermione allowed herself to be led to the dance floor as Neville indicated Harry with a nod of his head. "Something about staging a duel or something after hols."

 _That would be interesting!_ "Can I watch?"

Neville grinned. "I'm sure it could be arranged. I think it's planned as a school-wide spectator slash educational dynamic moment or something?" They shared a laugh and he swept her around in the traditional form of a very old Wizarding dance. Students nodded at them, smiling easily or cheekily depending upon their mood. "Ready for the Manor?" Neville asked softly, his voice calling her attention from their surroundings.

She met his forest-green eyes and smiled. "Absolutely. Is your gran ready for us, though?"

Neville's color heightened and he swallowed noticeably. "Well, I may have informed her that you and I will be, er, making things official."

"Ah," Hermione managed to say on a broken breath. Her heart accelerated and her thoughts briefly dove off a cliff of forbidden fantasies. All those times with Neville. Times they'd come so very, very close, but . . . ! "Official. And she's all right with that?"

"I was floo calling her, y'know? And she snorted and said that it was about time."

They shared a light laugh, until Hermione glanced at the other member of their yet-to-be-finalized triad. "And Harry? Does she know _he's_ coming?"

"Yes. I just haven't told her that he'll be with us, yet." She gave him a stern look and was about to say something when he spun her off the floor and held her hands firmly as he continued. "We'll be together. All of us. And if it's not . . . acceptable? We'll floo right to Herbology House, all right? All three of us."

"All three of us," she repeated, nodding. "Tonight?"

"Well," Neville reminded her with a smile, "I've got to go back to Hogsmeade tonight, but you two are welcome to join me when everyone's on the train tomorrow."

"Right." Blushing, she turned and withdrew her hands from his in order to at least pretend to be a decent ball chaperone. "You rather distracted me."

With a laugh, he brushed her cheek lightly with a knuckle as he stepped away. "I'll get back to work as well. Give Harry the latest."

"Right. Thank you, Nev!"

The final dance of the night, Neville took Harry for a turn about the floor, which certainly had some eyes bugged out and open, and more than one look sent Hermione's way. Severus Snape, though, was the only one brave or tired enough, perhaps, to approach her.

"Tossed over already, Granger?"

She rolled her eyes; she couldn't seem to stop herself. "Only for the moment, Severus." She then turned toward him a little and smirked. "Don't you think they make a nice couple?"

Surprise was only apparent in the lift of one of the Potion Master's eyebrows. "Really?" he asked, in the way that only a Slytherin could manage.

"Mm-hmm. You know, they were best friends, before Sirius took Harry away. We all were. I'm . . . grateful that he was safe, but we missed him." Turning more fully toward Severus, she added, "I'm grateful for you, too, though I noticed you've not been touching your mail at the Head Table since just past Hallowe'en."

A light tint of pink brushed up his face and he jerked himself a bit to stare again at the dance floor. "Nosey bleeding Gryffindor."

"Observant Gryffindor, actually." He scoffed. "So, do you have holiday plans?"

"It matters not in the least as I am in no ways accountable to you, Granger."

"True enough. But a lady can't help but be interested in the romances of others…"

With a truly emphatic snort, Severus stepped severely from her as the final notes wound down in the Great Hall. Hermione smiled at Neville and Harry and turned to do her job in making sure all the students cleared the Hall and got to their dorms, unless they had express permission to leave via the floo in Minerva's office.

Minerva herself held up a hand for Hermione's attention. "I'm going up for the evening, Hermione. You and Harry are the responsible parties for the night, yes?"

Unable to help chuckling, Hermione nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We've got this. Nev's heading to Herbology House and Harry and I will be out tomorrow morning as well."

"Precisely why I am having an early night," Minerva countered with a wry shake of her head. "Well, Happy Yule, Hermione. I wish the very best for all of you," she added with a serious smile and an unexpected touch on the shoulder. "You've all worked quite hard and deserve . . . peace."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Several students filed after the Headmistress to her office, Hermione could see. Some of them had obvious luggage, others were clearly just eager to be gone with only the formalwear on their backs. Glancing down at her own gown, with its high neck and long sleeves, she felt very conservative, but elegant. Nev and Harry had both made it a point to assure her on these points earlier that evening.

She strolled through the corridors, some of the portraits helping her by pointing out students who needed to get to their dorms. Others, though, were not so thoughtful.

"Mudblood," she heard a few hiss as she passed them. "How can one of you possibly think to teach us?"

"Look at the Muggle!"

"Go back to the Muggles, Mudblood. You've no purpose here."

The worst portraits were those near the Slytherin dorms, unsurprisingly. To his credit, Severus, upon hearing one of them, Silenced the thing, but it didn't stop the others.

"It's all right, Professor Snape. Annoying, but they're only echoes, right?"

"Indeed. Go find your swain, Granger. I'll see to the rectitude of my own House." With a smile, she complied, her smile only broadening as she rounded a corner and heard her name.

"Professor Granger!"

"Professor Potter."

Harry stepped briskly to meet her, having navigated the staircases, and took her hands in his. "May I escort you to the Teachers' Quarters?" he inquired with a stodgy air.

"That would be lovely."

He tucked her hand in his arm before sighing happily as they took their slow way toward their quarters. "Neville's likely all tucked in at Herbology House."

"I imagine so. Unless he's pacing, worried about Lady Longbottom."

Harry nodded, his expression somber. "I don't blame him. She was a bit terrifying, back in the day."

"Still can be, but really, I owe her so much. She's been a bulwark, for me."

He pressed her hand. "I know. Erm. What about, you know, Nev's parents? He doesn't really talk about them."

"We'll visit them over the holiday. He's done that as long as I've known him. It's super hard, too, because he shares all the happenings with them, every year. I couldn't go the year of the Tournament, but I've watched him and Augusta, and they . . . they're great, you know?"

Harry didn't respond, but she felt his body sort of tighten up under her hand and she stopped, just short of the corridor that led to their version of Faculty Alley, as it were. "I know I'm glad they've been here for you, Hermione." He blushed a bit under the light of the corridor torches and ducked his head for a moment. "Really glad Nev's been here."

She laughed softly. "Same. And we're really glad you're back, in case we haven't told you often enough."

"Oh, you've told me. I might . . . almost . . . believe you," he murmured, moving to envelope her in an embrace and whispering a wandless disillusionment charm and lowering his mouth to hers.

"Harry," she admonished, breathless as his hands slid to her bum. "We're in the corridor."

"Have to," he told her with a laugh that brushed against her temple before he nudged her head up. "Look."

"Mistletoe! Well, that's all right then." She wrapped her hands around his neck and resumed their kiss, sighing into his mouth when he opened hers. Heat flared within her and she pressed herself fully against him, tugging on his hair when he moaned and pressed her back into the wall. Her thighs fell open of their own accord and he ground his prominent erection into her for a few fireworks-inducing moments before he abruptly ceased.

With a sudden, unwelcome movement, he propped himself up on his hands against the same wall and touched his forehead to hers. "We can't," he said on a rasp.

She understood and even agreed, but still she sighed, feeling her body curling and _wanting_ and hoping. "I know." She deliberately bit her lip as she nudged him a handspan from her. Once his eyes were focused on her lips, she pouted a little and was rewarded when he made a soft sort of desperate sound in his throat. "Tomorrow, yeah?"

"Tomorrow."

After a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek that actually had him laughing a little, she entered her quarters and warded the door. "I need a cold shower."

* * *

"Happy Yule, Hermione!" Augusta Longbottom drew her from the flop-space and wandlessly Banished the ashes of transport. The older witch wore a lavender velvet gown with lace accents. Very old-school. Entirely Augusta. Her gray hair was neatly styled in a chignon, which she touched lightly after Hermione moved on to make room for Harry. "Harry Potter, welcome home!"

Neville drew her into his arms for a chaste kiss. "Happy Yule, love. You look charming."

She smiled into his eyes. "This old thing?" she teased. "I brought presents!" she went on to say, showing him a small leather pack. "In here. No Finites for a few moments, yeah?"

Neville laughed and took the bag from her. "We'll make sure they're properly distributed, m'lady."

Behind them, Harry was doing the duty with Augusta, but they all finished their small conversations at about the same time. Augusta smiled benevolently, her approval wafting to Hermione like incense. "What a lovely holiday this will be, my dear. I am so pleased with Neville's news."

Hermione couldn't stop her blush, but she nodded. "Thank you, Augusta."

"I will have the elves show you to your rooms, and then we'll meet back in the family dining room for brunch. Toffy! Tibbs!"

Two house-elves popped into the reception room, both of them wearing bright white togas with holiday-themed trim. "Yes, Lady Longbottom!"

"Toffy, please take Mister Potter to the Gryffindor Suite." Neville made a startled sound and Augusta shook her head. "It's the very least we can do for him. Harry," she said, turning to face Harry fully, "your presence has been missed."

"You've said. And thank you. I'm honored by my accommodations."

"You honor us by occupying them," her ladyship said with all dignity. "Tibbs, take my grandson and his intended to his suite. Everything has been made ready?"

"Yes, Lady!" Tibbs said, bowing so that his ears touched the floor. "It is being our honor to prepare the suite for the next ladyship."

Neville actually choked to hear those words and Hermione and Harry caught each other's eyes before Hermione wrapped an arm around Neville and hugged him like that, in front of his grandmother. "Thank you, Tibbs," Hermione murmured, knowing her cheeks were on fire.

It was so very awkward! There was Lady Longbottom, basically declaring that she was losing her virginity that night—in front of Harry and the house-elves! She felt like she should apologize to them all, and that Augusta should also apologize to her, for embarrassing her like that.

Neville's comforting kiss, placed gently on her forehead, soothed her ruffled insides. "Yes, thank you, Tibbs. Your work is always appreciated. And no one appreciates your service more than Miss Granger."

Harry smiled at them, his eyes shadowed as he was led away by Toffy. "See you in a few, Harry," Hermione called, hoping to make him smile.

He complied, though the smile was slanted. "I remember that Lady Longbottom's menus are wonderful."

"Ah, how kind of you," Augusta called after him as she ushered Hermione and Neville to follow Tibbs. "I look forward to celebrating the day with you all."

"And I look forward to celebrating _tonight_ with you," Neville murmured. "Merlin knows we've waited long enough."

She almost tripped up the stairs. "Neville!" she hissed. "Not out here!"

Harry, who was a few meters ahead of them, apparently heard her or something. "Hey! No bedroom eyes 'til you're in the bedroom, you lot."

Hermione thought he was doing a good job of being their best friend with such a remark, so she just made a face at him as she reached the landing. Neville winked at Harry and then turned her in his arms to kiss her soundly, and Hermione couldn't resist the sensation of being enveloped in his arms while Harry watched.

Because it was hot, really. For all of them.

When Neville let her up for some air, she leaned fully against his hard muscles. "Happy Yule to me."

"Me, too," Neville replied.

"Are you quite finished giving each other public presents?" Harry inquired, his tone amused.

"Oh, maybe," Hermione shot back.

Then, they separated and Hermione marveled at how the house-elves made short work of unpacking for her and Neville. "Thank you so much!"

"We is happy to be serving!" Tibbs assured her. "Tibbs be back tonight to lay out Miss Granger's things."

"Merlin," she muttered, embarrassed yet again. "No, really. I, I'd rather do that in private."

"As Miss Granger be wanting!"

Hermione smoothed her skirt—she wore a plaid that Minerva McGonagall assured her would serve, as it was the Stewart tartan and all residents of Scotland could basically claim the tartan if they had no other—and pointed her wand at her hair to tidy it up. It fell into shiny, tame curls about her shoulders. Her blouse was white and she smoothed it as well before turning from her reflection.

"You look smashing, love," Neville said, wrapping his arms around her. "Let's go get Harry."

Finding the Gryffindor Suite was not a problem for Neville, of course, but Hermione didn't get time to investigate the elaborate rooms other than to see that the bed was . . . inspirational. "Can we come back here?" she whispered to Harry as they closed the door.

Caught up short, he barked out a laugh. "Well. You'll get no objection from me, 'Mione."

"Nor me," Neville added.

"Be nice! I have to eat with Augusta, now. And exchange gifts, since that's what we're doing, this year. And be . . . reasonable!"

"Oh, you know she'll be smiling like the original cat with the original canary," Harry said, leading the way down the stairs to the dining room. "I could see it as soon as we got here."

"You're not wrong!" Neville stated, his words catching just so, so that they actually echoed.

Hermione pushed past them both with a huff, unwilling to be teased further that morning. "Augusta! This is lovely," she said as she entered the room. She wouldn't have cared if it hadn't been entirely beautiful, she would have said so anyway. Just to have a reason to get away from her men!

* * *

"I can't wait," Hermione murmured many hours later as she and Neville relaxed in front of the fire near the Christmas tree. Behind them, Harry was enjoying a snifter of Ogden's Finest, speaking quietly with Augusta about the years he was away. Hermione heard references to France, Spain, tutoring, and Hallowe'en. She caught Neville's eye. "How long until we can make our escape?"

His eyes gleamed. "Gran is just keeping Harry busy to let us make our escape, you know."

She bit her lip. "I wish we didn't have to hide that."

Neville nodded and pressed his forehead to hers. "So do I. Not for much longer, love. I . . . want you both."

"I know."

With a huge show of a feigned yawn, Neville rolled up to his feet. "Well, Hermione and I are going to be turning in, now," he declared unnecessarily.

Augusta rose from her upholstered chair, hands outstretched to take one of Hermione's and one of Neville's. "Then I wish you both a good night. We'll see you in the morning." To Hermione's surprise, the elderly woman kissed her cheek. "Welcome to the family, my dear. I've been waiting for quite some time."

"And cue my blushes again," Hermione murmured. "Thanks ever so."

The others laughed a bit and, after bidding Harry good night, Neville led her from the room. "Race you," he challenged, mischief brimming all over.

Shocked, she halted. "You'd not dare."

"Oh, absolutely." Without another word, he was off, dashing to the stairs, his long legs taking the steps two at a time.

She cheated. Picturing the corridor just outside their suite, she slid her wand from its holster, turned, and Apparated!

"Oi!" Neville shouted in dismay. "I forgot Gran added you to the wards!" He reached her and knelt to scoop her up in his arms and his playfulness evaporated as he held her. "Hello."

The moment thickened the air around them and Hermione felt her heart start to pound, all of a sudden. "Hi," she whispered. "So, we're doing this?"

His smile was serious, his green eyes focused. "Yeah, we are." He flipped his hand and the door opened. He carried her through the doorway. "Over the threshold and everything, Hermione."

"Wow." A lump in her throat, she buried her face against Neville's throat. "I, I'm glad, Neville. I'm glad we waited."

"For Harry." He held her still against his chest and she felt his heart thump against her. "I'm glad we waited. It's . . . better with him."

"See, there you go, mentioning him again." They shared a soft laugh. "So, we don't have to worry about being interrupted, do we?"

"Not tonight."

"I'll just, erm, go get ready, shall I?" She eased out of his embrace and, heart pounding, Summoned the robe Tibbs had left out for her before disappearing into the shower.

* * *

Neville moved about the suite, lighting candles and quietly getting Tibbs to bring in flowers from the greenhouse. He had plenty, of course, and he arranged them to good effect as Hermione made her escape.

He'd known her for ages; he knew she was retreating. She was nervous. Well, so was he!

A silvery white stag darted through the ceiling to him and Neville started in surprise when it spoke. "Happy Yule," the stag said in Harry's voice.

As per their prior arrangement, Neville sent his own bear back to his soon-to-be official partner. "Happy Yule!"

Within two minutes, Neville was opening the door to see Harry's slightly anxious gaze. "All right, there?" he murmured once he'd drawn the other man into the room and proceeded to ward the doors with privacy charms of all sorts. Even if Gran looked for them, she'd put it down to what she already knew would be happening.

Harry offered him a wry smile. "I guess it's just . . . hard to believe it's happening, Nev."

"Merlin, mate, I even danced with you at the ball last night!"

"Right then." The other man drew in a breath and straightened his spine as he looked about the room. "Nice bed, here, mate. Not as big as mine, but . . ."

"Oh, if you two are going on about comparative sizes, I'll just go to sleep."

"Hermione!" Neville heard Harry blurt the name at the same instant he did himself and they all three grinned at each other. Suddenly, any nerves Neville had were banished as if by a purely effective charm.

"Nope, not comparing anything, 'Mione," Harry asserted, crossing the room to her. They embraced and Neville moved immediately to join them, relishing in the feel of their bodies, their scents, the tension in the air but also the confidence he felt.

He was at home, after a fashion, and he felt secure here, aside from wondering what his grandmother would say in the morning. Hermione was kissing Harry, so he bent to nuzzle the wizard's neck on one side, smiling against his heated skin when he froze in surprise. He felt Hermione move her hand over his own back, cupping his bum through his trousers and he remembered that she was the only one, of the three of them, actually dressed for bed.

"There are too many clothes here if we're going to do this," he remarked, shifting his attention to Hermione's lips and feeling Harry move to his neck. He sighed into his witch's mouth as her lips parted for him.

Then she pulled back a little. "Not my fault. Some people should leave off comparing things and get to shedding their robes." She smirked. "Unless you want me to do it for you."

Her eyes were half-lidded as she stepped back from them, and Neville studied her carefully. "Well, Harry? What do you think?"

"Oh, we could give the lady a break. Do what she wants us to do."

Nerves shot through Neville all at once. "In front of her?"

"I'll do you, you do me?"

Hermione whimpered as she hit the bed with the backs of her thighs. "Please?" she whispered.

"As my lady wishes," Neville responded. "Harry?"

The other man turned to him and they stared at each other for about thirty seconds. Surprise lit Harry's gaze but then, mischief sparked in his eyes and he moved forward. "Dammit, I'm a Gryffindor, right?"

"That's what the Hat said, years ago." He took Harry's hand and drew him closer to himself. "Shall we give the lady what she wants?"

"Always," Harry murmured. Already, he was sliding his hands up Neville's chest to his collar, and Neville thrilled a little with the slow method Harry used to unbutton his shirt under his open robes.

He himself opted to slide the wizard's outer robes off Harry's body first, which made for a bit of a tangle, but they got through that soon enough. Neville's heart raced and his mouth went dry as Harry slid his shirt off and then Neville did the same for Harry, making a slow show of unbuttoning the other man's dress shirt and sliding it off to the pile on the floor.

Harry had an amazing chest. "Merlin, Harry." Neville smoothed his palms down over Harry's chest, tracing the lines of his pectoral muscles, his abdominals, and even the scars he'd acquired during years of fighting Death Eaters and other dark wizards over the years. Harry's breath hitched as Neville reached the belt to his trousers and Neville could no longer resist the temptation to kiss him.

With a quick motion, he pulled Harry up against himself, relishing the feel of hard muscle under hot skin, of hardening, flat nipples, of Harry's hands kneading his back. Neville was hard, so hard, and he thrust against Harry's body, feeling Harry's cock do the same. Neville moaned when Harry undid his trousers and then, all at once, they were entirely naked and he could feel every inch of the man. Every. Single. Heated. Inch.

"Merlin, Nev, damn." Harry didn't hesitate but gripped Neville's own heat and began to stroke, stroke as if he'd been doing it for years, as if his mind had no other purpose—

And they heard a soft cry from the bed. And Neville as both unbearably embarrassed to have completely let Hermione's avid presence slip from his awareness as he and Harry enjoyed one another's passion as well as unbearably close to climaxing himself as he saw that Hermione—his lady, his future wife, Harry's future wife—was on the bed, stroking her bare mons, skin flushed, wearing only the thinnest wisp of translucent white silk over her body.

Harry swore under his breath. Something crude that Neville couldn't imagine actually saying to Hermione. But he was able to nod and take Harry's hand to cross the room to the bed. "You stopped," she said, sounding breathlessly disappointed. "But you can't, I—"

"Nev, you need to—"

Right. Tonight. Neville felt the skin on his whole body turn red. "Sorry, love."

She continued to stroke herself, fingers sliding through the obviously lubricated labia and up to circle her clitoris—he'd read books on the female anatomy and had let his mind, over the years, imagine her—all while holding his gaze with her own. "Do not apologize. If you hadn't stopped, I'd have come. Just watching."

Harry touched her leg as it was nearest. "Do you want to? Just like that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not now. I think . . . C'mere, Harry."

Harry shot him a look and Neville nodded. "Go on. I'll, ah, attend to her here, yeah?"

Harry crawled up the bed to Hermione and he watched as she wasted no time wrapping her wet fingers around Harry's erection, pumping him slowly. It was mesmerizing and Neville only just remembered that his turn would come . . . and he wanted it to be inside her. Wanted her so much. So. Much.

While Hermione stroked Harry, who straddled her stomach, his taut arse clenched, Neville settled himself between her thighs and slid his own fingers where hers had so recently been. And then, he sucked on them, drawing in her flavor, her scent, and he almost ejaculated right there. Not yet, you berk. Her, first!

He'd never engaged in sex before. Not with anyone, but he had fantasies and information and he did his best, tasting, taking his cues from her startled cries and Harry's swearing and her own body. She tasted . . . better, sweeter, deeper, and he did his best to follow every roll of her hips, even as Harry called out that he was coming and Hermione tensed. He felt Harry move, the other man, Neville saw over her body, taking each of her breasts in turn, suckling them, massaging, and then, she was there.

"Oh!" It was one syllable, but it seemed to go on for quite a while, climbing higher until it was nearly a shriek as she reached her climax. He drank from her, unwilling to abandon this new delight, until Harry tapped him on the shoulder.

"Share," he demanded, cupping Neville's face. They kissed as Hermione watched again, and Harry made the most amazing sounds as their tongues laved one another in Hermione . . . essence of Woman. Just . . . the most incredible thing ever.

"My turn," Hermione said, sitting up and dragging Neville on top of her. And all of a sudden, he was there. Where he had yearned to be for years. "Oh, Nev, you taste and feel so amazing and Harry's here and it's all three of us. But you . . . you haven't, you know…"

No, he hadn't and his erection was pulsing and nearly painful. "You're sure?" He had to ask; this was huge. "It's forever, love. You know that."

She smiled with such sweet confidence, such love, that his eyes burned with unexpected tears. "Of course. Forever. You, me, and Harry."

Without further ado, his eyes on hers the entire time, Neville found her heat with his and slid home.

"Oh!" Hermione said on a gasp.

Neville felt it as well, the nudging in his chest, the sense of making room for her in the very core of his being, magic and mundane. Hermione was a part of him, legally and magically. "Oh," he echoed.

Harry's breath caught and Neville then saw him kneeling on the bed, reaching for Hermione's hand, eyes wide. "Oh. Merlin, Nev. You're all . . . wow."

A subtle, golden glow enveloped him and Hermione and, wonderfully, Harry's arm and torso. "Wow."

Harry bent to kiss their lady, and Neville made room for him for a moment, flexing in and out of her, feeling the heat of her, the drag of flesh on flesh, before Harry moved, and Neville came fully on top of Hermione once more. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he couldn't believe how amazing she felt, surrounding him in every possible way. He focused entirely on this, this consummation, this culmination, the celebration of their relationship that they had carefully, carefully avoided for so long.

But now? Now they were together. With Harry.

Who slid up behind Neville and lightly brushed his back. "This okay, Nev?"

That his other partner wanted to be with them thrilled Neville even more. "Absolutely. C'mon Harry. You're ours."

"Ours!" Hermione echoed. "Oh, please."

Harry straddled his bum, and Neville could feel his cock against his skin and Harry's hands and Hermione's legs and it was all just so much. So. Much. He swore but was hardly aware of it. "Hermione . . ."

"Please, Nev!"

He didn't know what to do but he shifted just a bit and she shrieked again, as she had when he'd been between her thighs, and he felt all those slick, tight muscles grip him and he lost it, his climax coming hard and powerfully.

His back had a couple of hot, wet stripes of what could only be Harry's semen and his shoulders had been scored by Hermione's nails and . . .

Neville sighed, a deep welling of contentment and joy bubbling from inside him as he rested on his elbows over Hermione's body. "That was unreal." He met Hermione's heavy eyes. "You all right there, love?"

"I never want to move again, but yeah." She smiled, clearly replete and happy.

Harry threw himself down beside them, a grin on his face. "Oh, I don't know. I kind of want to see that in a Pensieve."

"Harry James Potter," Hermione remonstrated, but without any heat. "Pensieve porn?"

Neville eyed her curiously. "What, you know that's a thing on Knockturn Alley, right?"

Clearly she hadn't. "I don't get out much. And it doesn't sound appealing. Unless it's us," she added, biting her lip. Then, she pushed herself up on her elbows and kissed Harry and then kissed Neville. "I have no wish to see anyone else but you two, you know."

"Always," Neville assured her.

"Forever," Harry promised.

Hermione lay back on the pillows, her hair in wild tendrils everywhere. "This is exactly the way it should be. Happy Yule."

Neville rolled over to her other side, met Harry's eyes and grinned. "Happy Yule."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** We'll finish up with Augusta's reaction and the Life Debt. Nope haven't forgotten it. ;-) Until then, take care of yourselves, tell your loved ones they're your loved ones, and find something to smile about every day. _


	18. New Beginnings

_**A/N:** No, your eyes do NOT_ _deceive you. It's been six months, but I have finally finished. Among other things..._

 _Longer note later!_

 _My undying gratitude to **Katmom the Magnificent, Filler of Plotholes**. I mean, seriously. Facebook Messenger had all the emojis. Hope the fix works for you, my friend!_

* * *

 **From the last chapter:**

 _Neville sighed, a deep welling of contentment and joy bubbling from inside him as he rested on his elbows over Hermione's body. "That was unreal." He met Hermione's heavy eyes. "You all right there, love?"_

 _"_ _I never want to move again, but yeah." She smiled, clearly replete and happy._

 _Harry threw himself down beside them, a grin on his face. "Oh, I don't know. I kind of want to see that in a Pensieve."_

 _"_ _Harry James Potter," Hermione remonstrated, but without any heat. "Pensieve porn?"_

 _Neville eyed her curiously. "What, you know that's a thing on Knockturn Alley, right?"_

 _Clearly she hadn't. "I don't get out much. And it doesn't sound appealing. Unless it's us," she added, biting her lip. Then, she pushed herself up on her elbows and kissed Harry and then kissed Neville. "I have no wish to see anyone else but you two, you know."_

 _"_ _Always," Neville assured her._

 _"_ _Forever," Harry promised._

 _Hermione lay back on the pillows, her hair in wild tendrils everywhere. "This is exactly the way it should be. Happy Yule."_

 _Neville rolled over to her other side, met Harry's eyes and grinned. "Happy Yule."_

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

 **NEW BEGINNINGS**

"Sex is great," Hermione murmured as she stretched on Boxing Day.

Harry watched her limbs extend, counted the marks of passion on her body, and then winced a little when she sat up. Her back . . .he'd felt it, during the night, of course. The scarred, patched expanse of skin that she'd suffered for him. The first time he'd caught his breath over it, she'd stared at him, hard, and made him massage some lotion into her whole back, arms, and neck.

"Better, now?" she'd inquired.

Oddly enough, he had been. Neville had watched with an understanding light in his eye, which had quickly gone hot when Hermione spun around and taken him into her mouth.

Yes, sex was better than great.

* * *

Augusta Longbottom's eyes grew round as she rose to greet her grandson at the breakfast table the following morning. Still, she was smiling and Hermione took comfort in the fact that no ill words had been offered.

 _Her first startled sound upon seeing Harry leave Neville's suite shortly after sunrise had not been so composed. Hermione hadn't seen Lady Longbottom, but she had heard her. Hermione herself had just emerged from the bath when Harry was leaving to return to his suite to shower and prepare for the day._

 _"_ _Neville?" the older witch had called after a moment._

 _"_ _Gran."_

 _And in that one syllable, Hermione felt a good deal of sudden tension ease. Neville—in a dressing gown and slippers—took his grandmother for a stroll down the corridor whilst Harry ducked back into the room with Hermione._

 _She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his half-dressed body. "It'll be fine," she assured him, answering the worried frown he bore. "We will all be fine."_

"Hermione," Augusta said over the white cloth of the breakfast table. "Come here, dear. Welcome to the family."

After shooting a glance to Nev and Harry, Hermione complied, serving herself from the sideboard. "Thank you, Augusta." As the men got their plates filled, Hermione settled next to the matriarch. "We'll need to register this with the Ministry," she noted, catching the eyes of each of her men as they, too, served themselves and settled in at the table.

Augusta sniffed and pursed her lips. "Indeed. But how will you do so? Neville has properly informed me as to his intent, of course, and Harry—Harry, you're a fine man, never doubt my good opinion—but how will you register this . . . arrangement?"

She knew. Well, of course she did. Neville never meant to hide it from her, after the fact. Hermione knew that. But she knew. That made her and Minerva and Sirius and Remus. Plus the triad. A total of seven. _Seven is a good omen, isn't it?_ she asked herself.

Hermione endeavored to sip at her tea and look as if she had no concerns on that score. She did, of course, but in the end, she was thrilled that she and her men were indeed a full triad, now, and that was really all that mattered.

Neville smiled down the table. "After the first of the year, we'll go in and sign the parchments, Gran. I told you."

Augusta nodded, smiled stiffly, and paid great attention to her egg and tomato. "I'll get Berry to pack my trunks, then, so I can remove to the Dower House."

Hermione felt a flash of surprise. "Dower House? I don't remember hearing about a Dower House, ma'am."

The older witch, still with fork in hand, smiled at her, a warmer expression than she had worn previously. "I lived here when my dear Nigel was alive." Neville sighed a little and Hermione caught his eye and offered what she hoped was an encouraging half-smile. She knew that he had seen his grandfather die when he'd been a lad. "And of course I stayed on for Neville."

"Never was a better Lady Longbottom," Neville answered. Then he smiled warmly at Hermione. "Though I might have found your equal."

Augusta laughed dryly. "Perhaps." She took a bite of tomato, chewed thoughtfully, and put her fork carefully on her plate. "Right, then." With a sweeping gaze, Augusta connected with each of them. "I cannot pretend that this arrangement is everything I've been hoping for for the past few years." Hermione blushed, Harry stammered something unintelligible and Neville sighed loudly. "But I will say that it answers a few questions and solves at least two issues that I could think of. First, Neville, you've gained your Lady and she will no doubt—in due time!—strengthen our House."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hermione said in tandem with Neville.

Harry tensed. "And second, Madam Longbottom?"

Augusta leaned back in her chair with a small smile. "You're bonded to my grandson and granddaughter-in-law, Harry. Call me Augusta."

* * *

 **Herbology House, Three Years Later**

Hermione was weeping. Harry and Neville exchanged distraught stares and clasped hands while they had a hurried discussion about why, precisely, their wife was weeping.

"How long has she been home?" Neville asked his co-husband. He'd been up at Hogwarts since the day before, having pulled patrol duty. Harry had slept at Herbology House, but had taught during the day, as per usual. They had both come home for dinner, but now had no appetite.

Harry shook his head. "Dunno. She said she had to run to Diagon Alley for a book order and to— _shit_. To St. Mungo's." His heart thudded hard in his chest as he recounted what he knew and he saw Neville's throat flush up from his cloak.

Neville held up a forestalling hand. "I—I need to talk to her."

Harry nodded and stepped to the other man's side. "I'll come with."

"Not this time. Give me, um, fifteen minutes?"

Despite his unease, curiosity, and deep desire to comfort their wife, Harry found it in him to offer some offsetting snark. "What, planning on a quickie to put a smile on her face? Don't I get an invite?"

Neville swooped to catch him up next to his chest. "Always. Just as soon as I talk to her first, okay?"

"It's about…the visit today, I know."

Neville sighed and the men lightly embraced one another at the end of the hall. The fireplace offered the only light in the room, and it was small comfort when Hermione's disappointment seeped into the air. "I've been putting off talking to her—talking to you both, actually," Neville confessed into Harry's hair.

Harry pulled back, but kept his arms around Neville. "What is it?"

Neville met his eyes; his own were grave. "Let me talk to her first."

Frustrated, Harry nodded abruptly and let him go. "Fine. Do that. I'll go make some tea."

Tea. The English Panacea. He endeavored not to growl or feel left out as Neville disappeared down the hall. Over the past few years, they had all had to manage feelings of jealousy and discomfort. Hermione, true to her bookish nature and reliance on research, had only learnt that "communication is the key" and she encouraged them all to communicate with one another, even when it hurt.

And they had. And it hadn't been easy.

So, as Harry measured Hermione's favorite loose-leaf tea and boiled water the Muggle way—they both preferred the way plain old fire boiled water and released the essence of the leaves in a tea ball, though Neville couldn't have cared less—he reassured himself that there was nothing to be worried about regarding the big relationship.

When Hermione had begun her career as an author, creating guides for the new Muggleborn into the Wizarding World, they'd celebrated her, even when it meant she had to do some traveling on her own. When there were school events, their triad as such was often side-eyed, so Neville and Harry took turns taking Hermione as a date or each other as a date for an evening, leaving their remaining partner time to catch up on solo hobbies or visit family or friends or even hit the cinema.

But with sex? It was pretty much always the three of them if they were all home. Unless Hermione really wasn't up for it, in which case she was generally an enthusiastic audience and Harry smiled to remember what kind of a "show" she had been most pleased with. She really liked watching them perform fellatio. Either in turns or simultaneously. He still wasn't sure why that was so exciting for her, but she had told them that even when she was feeling rotten, watching them got her hot.

Well, the calendar did not indicate _that_ was her problem, that evening. It had to do with the trip to St. Mungo's. Still, tea was always indicated and it would soon be ready.

The water boiled and Harry set the tea to steep, arranging favorite cups for each of them on a tray just to keep busy. He checked his wristwatch, noting that it had almost been fifteen minutes.

Balancing the tray in one hand, he put a hopeful expression on his face as he made his way to their bedroom. Their home was a private retreat, just for the three of them. They rarely even had visitors, though Minerva and Filius found their way down on occasion. Of course, Sirius and Remus were family and their home wasn't far away; just a few minutes' walk. And as much guidance as they'd been able to provide Harry and his spouses, they hadn't any experience with navigating a triad!

So Harry was on his own as he knocked once before opening the bedroom door. "Hallo? I come bearing tea," he offered as he shut the door with a bump of his hip. He caught Neville's eye and saw the light of serious anticipation in it. Hermione was seated near the foot of the bed, but her eyes were dry, now, and she looked part worried, part expectant.

Well, that's wasn't confusing at all, was it? Harry smiled a little and slid the tea tray carefully to the middle of the bed and took up a spot were he could eye both his spouses. "All sorted?"

"I am so sorry, Harry," Hermione began, adding two lumps of sugar to her tea and stirring with characteristic dispatch. Her quick, rhythmic movements made a familiar tattoo on the porcelain cup. "It's just that I got some bad news."

His heart seized for a moment. "What kind of bad news?" She and Neville had been trying, he knew, to create the first Longbottom heir and that had been taking some doing, to be sure.

Neville cleared his throat but then Hermione shook her head, took a sip of her tea and waited until Harry had done likewise. Then, she said, "So. You said, once, that you owed me a life debt, Harry Potter."

Well, that hadn't been what he was expecting. To be honest, if he were being honest, he'd felt as if his happy life were about to take a sharp turn and dump him into a ditch or something. He swallowed some more tea and took a quick survey of the room to ground himself again. As much as he'd done, as much as he'd lived through and died for, it sometimes felt very impermanent. But the bookshelves, the green, growing plants near the high, long windows, the Quidditch awards and family portraits that had been Stuck to the walls all reminded him that this was home. It was his. The cottage might be named Herbology House, but it was the Granger/Longbottom/Potter Place to everyone who knew them.

"I honestly haven't thought about that in a while, Hermione," he answered after a few long, silent moments. "It nudges at me now and again, but then goes silent." He smiled at her, hopefully dispelling any concerns she had. "I love you. You love me. I can't see anything more binding than what all three of us have, can you?"

"No," Neville assured him. He leaned back against the heavy headboard of their bed and crossed his socked feet at the ankles. "No matter what happens, we are three, and that's as it always should be."

"Right then. So, 'Mione." He put his cup back on the tray and leaned toward her. "Why were you crying?"

She sighed, smiled a little helplessly over the rim of her teacup, and nodded. "Right. Natural question. I'm fine, now. I really am. Just seems that, well, the onus lies with me."

"Because _that_ doesn't sound ominous at all," Harry shot back.

"At least it's not on _you_ ," Neville retorted. "Yet."

With a show of great patience, Harry eyed them both. "Okay. What is it?"

"The onus is on me to produce an heir for the Longbottom title, Harry. If I can't do it, then Neville will not be able to claim the title himself. It's one of the conditions they adopted generations ago to ensure that the title would be carried on and not fall by the way. When he has an heir, he will take on the title and all that goes with it. And that means, well, things will change for all of us, you know? I mean, I'll still write but it'll be…different."

Feeling on edge again, Harry nodded. "This…makes a kind of sense. All right. And you have to, have to have this child."

"Of course," Neville said softly. "I can't imagine making a family without both of you."

"We haven't been able to do it, Harry," Hermione said after putting her cup down with considerable noise. He stared at it, then at her, then at Neville. Hermione smiled ruefully.

He pursed his lips for a silent whistle. They had tried, he knew. When she was "favorably disposed" to be impregnated, they'd made an effort to make sure Neville had, well, the most frequent attempts to do so. Harry had found great satisfaction as both his spouses worked extra hard to bring him pleasure in other ways. "And that's why you were crying?"

"Merlin, love, this is so awkward," Neville said, knocking his head back until it thudded on the headboard. "I can't. I guess. This is a secret of the House of Longbottom, all right?" Harry nodded, noticing that both his partners developed a dark blush before Neville spoke again. "My father and mother had…difficulties conceiving. Pure-bloods and all that, yeah?"

"The birth records have indicated that there is a definite decline," Hermione reminded them.

"But what made it worse, my Gran told me, was that Voldemort—" the name still made Neville turn a bit pale "had a plan after he'd heard that prophecy."

"Merlin-cursed thing," Hermione muttered, not even under her breath.

Neville nodded, a sad light in his eye. "He went about cursing families who were fighting him. The men, mostly. Trying to get them so they'd be...unable to sire sons."

"So your dad, my father, anyone...?"

"Yeah. Well, for a while. For maybe a year? Until he, erm—"

"Until he decided I was the one the prophecy spoke of," Harry said, his voice flat but still angry. "Well, damn."

Hermione cleared her throat. "He didn't go after the pure-blood families who were with him, of course."

"Naturally," Harry allowed. "Right. So."

"So." Neville blew out a breath that sounded loud, all of a sudden.

Hermione made an exasperated sound. "I'll need you to do this for me, Harry. For all of us, really. It would mean the world to me to be able to bear children for the House of Longbottom. Please, please help?"

He felt his jaw drop and he couldn't seem to lift it again. Hermione rolled from her position and crawled to him, levitating the tea tray off the bed and to the floor near the door. "I love you, Harry Potter. You know that, right?" She closed his mouth for him with a small smile, adoration shining in her warm, chocolate gaze. "We both love you. What I am asking is that we…both love all of us, and save Neville's place in the world. And then we'll start on House Potter." She nuzzled his jaw and he wrapped her up against himself.

"Are you sure you want to use a life debt for this?" was all he could think of to say to that.

They all chuckled, then they laughed, and then they carefully, lovingly undressed one another on their broad, comfortable bed in Herbology House. They did, after all, have a lot of practicing to do.

* * *

When it was deemed a favorable time, Harry teased Neville rather a lot as the other man was made to watch as enthusiastic, penetrative vaginal sex happened inches from Neville's own rock-hard body.

Hermione bit her lip as she touched where she and Harry were joined together. "This is so hot, Harry."

"Can you taste yourself?" Neville wondered, moving closer and nibbling the skin of her stomach. "Can _I_ taste you?"

"Oh, Merlin, that'd just about do it," Harry panted, leaning back and giving his husband plenty of room to do just that.

Hermione only needed to feel the tip of Neville's tongue before she lost all composure, screaming their names as she came with a dazzling show of magic. Harry did likewise, and Neville, not to be outdone, moved so that he released on Hermione's breasts. The sight was, to him, also quite arousing.

Later, it was determined that yes, that had done the trick _indeed_. But, of course, they didn't know that for a while, so...they kept at it.

There were no complaints.

* * *

 **Herbology House, Five Years Later**

Hermione caressed her manuscript, nodding with satisfaction at another job well done. _Why Can't I Use a Search Engine at Hogwarts and Other Conundrums_ was the title for her 2010 Muggle-born resource text and she'd finished it on time, wonder of wonders.

Standing, she stretched carefully as the two little people inside her stretched as well. That wasn't terribly comfortable, but she was growing used to the feeling of all the hands and feet. There was no definitive answer as to the sex of the twins, which led her to believe that there was one of each, in there.

"Mum! Mummy!" Her firstborn careened down the hall from his bedroom. "Mummy! My dragon's flying! Help!"

"Daniel Francis Longbottom! Slow down right this instant!"

The boy came to a halt, brown eyes wide. She and her husbands had all breathed a sigh of relief as Neville's heir took after her in nearly every physical particular. It wasn't even considered odd, as she was a strong witch who had proven herself many times over the years since she'd been free to move about the country without fearing for her freedom or life. "Strong magic" had been murmured. "Good blood," as well, to her surprise. The best of it was that no long-term glamours had to be cast on her child. He was every inch her son, which was the very best.

They had all sweated it out about his hair, though, until it was clear that brown curls dominated his head and they always would, it seemed. No green tinted his eyes, either. To one and all, Daniel was Neville's son.

Of course, many didn't wish to acknowledge that Neville had taken Harry Potter as a spouse as well, but the three of them had decided to live their lives and ignore the rest, for the time being. The Weasley twins were doing the same and, perhaps, one day, functional triads would be more than a curiosity in Wizarding Britain. The children she bore next would have the name Potter, and stand as heirs for that line.

Hermione waddled down the hall to Daniel's room to see a stuffed Welsh Green flapping its plush wings against the window, as if trying to escape. "Accidental magic, m'dear?" she inquired of her son.

"Dunno! He just… _did_ that."

"Well, see if you can get him to stop, hm?"

"I don't have a wand," the boy whispered.

"You don't need one," she whispered back.

His eyes flew wide again. "Really?"

"Just try."

Screwing his face up tight in concentration, he did. "Come down and behave," he told his dragon. "Merlin!" he shouted when the dragon did just that. "Merlin, Mum! Did you see? Did you?"

With slow dignity, Hermione bent over and hugged her child as close as she could. "I did indeed. And this is just the beginning."

 _ **~Fini~**_

* * *

 _ **A/N: The Long Edition**_

 **First** , thank you all for not bombarding me with "Where are you?" notes over the past several months. Glad letting them end with a good sexual experience seemed to work. ;-) I am typing this note after dinner on the day before the six-month-versary of the last posting for this story. This was not an accident. I am doing NaNoWriMo _unofficially_ this year and the 2K plus words I typed on this story are going toward my monthly total. I am so bad.

 **Second** : I extend my great gratitude to anyone reading. After ten years of posting fanfic here on FFn, this is the last story in my head for fanfic that I can think of. I'll post on my profile shortly, but here, _here_ is where I am saying I think I'm done. For now. lol

Oh, the stories will stay, at least as far as I can see. Please enjoy them. I try to respond to every reviewer who is signed in and accepting PMs. It's always a pleasure to hear from folks.

In the real world, I published a new book last month (a "sweet, clean romance" if you can believe it), am busily at work on two more during _this_ month, and hope to have at least one new release next year. It could happen!

Thank you again for reading this _**Epilogue**_. Harry Potter stories are often not considered "done" until he's found his forever family, his forever love, and his forever home. With Hermione and Neville, I like to think that, in this AU?, He's got everything he ever wanted. Including a daughter with his mom's red hair (Lily's hair skipped a generation, so Harry's daughter is a ginger!), a(nother) son (who looks like him, oddly enough) and a career that he finds fulfilling.

And all was well. :)


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